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BOB  BURTON 


The  Young  Ranchman  of  Missouri 


By  HORATIO  ALGER,  Jr. 

Author  of  ''Ben  Bruce,"  "  Bernard  Brooks'  Adventures," 

"A  Debt  of  Honor,"  "  Mark  Manning's  Mission,'' 

"The  Train  Boy,"  etc.  etc. 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,   PUBLISHERS 
NEW  YORK 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2011  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/bobburtonyoungraOOalge 


BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  I 

MR.  BURTON'S  RANCH 

"Harness  up  the  colt,  Clip;  I'm  going  to  the 
village." 

"All  right,  massa." 

"What  makes  you  call  me  massa?  One  would 
think  I  were  a  slave  owner." 

"Can't  help  it,  massa.  There,  I  done  forgot  it 
ag'in,"  said  Clip,  showing  his  white  teeth — preter- 
naturally  white  they  showed  in  contrast  with  his 
coal-black  skin.  "You  see,  I  used  to  say  that  to  my 
old  massa  down  in  Arkansaw." 

"What's  my  name,  Clip?" 

"Mister  Burton." 

"Then  call  me  Mr.  Burton.  Now,  go,  and  don't 
waste  any  time." 

"All  right,  massa." 


2  BOB  BURTON 

"That  boy's  incorrigible,"  said  Richard  Burton 
to  himself.  "He  hasn't  got  out  of  his  early  ways 
yet;  careless  and  shiftless  as  he  is,  I  believe  he  is 
devoted  to  me  and  my  family." 

Clip,  as  may  be  inferred,  was  a  negro  boy,  now 
turned  of  fourteen,  who  for  four  years  had  been 
attached  to  the  service  of  Richard  Burton,  a  ranch- 
man, whose  farm  lay  on  a  small  stream  tributary  to 
the  Missouri,  in  the  fertile  State  of  Iowa.  He  had 
fled  from  his  master  in  the  northern  part  of  Ar- 
kansas, and,  traveling  by  night  and  secreting  him- 
self by  day,  had  finally  reached  Iowa,  where  he 
found  a  safe  refuge  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Burton. 
Indeed,  he  had  been  picked  up  by  Bob  Burton,  a 
boy  a  year  older  than  himself,  who  had  brought 
him  home  and  insisted  on  his  father  taking  charge 
of  the  young  fugitive.  On  a  large  ranch  there  was 
always  something  to  do,  and  Clip  was  soon  made 
useful  in  taking  care  of  the  horses,  in  doing  errands 
and  in  many  odd  ways. 

While  waiting  for  the  wagon,  Mr.  Burton  went 
into  the  house  and  sought  his  wife. 

"Mammy,"  he  said,  "I  am  going  to  the  village 
to  pay  Wolverton  his  interest." 

"I  wish  he  didn't  hold  the  mortgage,  Richard," 
said  Mrs.  Burton,  looking  up  from  her  work. 

"So  do  I,  but  why  is  it  any  the  worse  for  him  to 
hold  it  than  for  any  one  else?" 

"Richard,  you  may  think  me  foolish  and  fanci- 


BOB  BURTON  3 

ful,  but  I  distrust  that  man.  It  is  impressed  upon 
my  mind  that  he  will  some  day  do  us  harm." 

"That  is  foolish  and  fanciful,  in  good  truth, 
mammy.  Now  Wolverton  seems  to  me  a — well,  not 
exactly  an  attractive  man,  but  good-natured  and 
friendly.  When  I  needed  three  thousand  dollars 
last  spring,  on  account  of  a  poor  crop  and  some 
extra  expenses,  he  seemed  not  only  willing,  but 
really  glad  to  lend  it  to  me." 

"He  took  a  mortgage  on  the  ranch,"  said  Mary 
Burton,  dryly. 

"Why,  of  course.  He  is  a  man  of  business,  you 
know.  You  wouldn't  expect  him  to  lend  the  money 
without  security,  would  you?" 

"And  you  pay  him  a  large  interest?" 

"Ten  per  cent." 

"There  isn't  much  friendship  in  lending  money 
on  good  security  at  ten  per  cent.,  Richard." 

"Oh,  you  put  things  in  a  wrong  way,  Mary. 
Money  is  worth  ten  per  cent,  out  here,  and,  of 
course,  I  didn't  want  Wolverton  to  lose  money  by 
me.    He  could  get  that  interest  elsewhere." 

"You  are  very  -unsuspecting,  Richard.  You 
credit  everybody  with  your  own  true,  unselfish 
nature." 

"Why,  that's  a  compliment,  Mary,"  laughed  the 
husband,  "and  deserves  a  kiss." 

He  bent  over  and  touched  his  wife's  cheek  with 
his  lips. 


4  BOB  BURTON 

Mary  Burton  had  reached  the  age  of  thirty-six, 
and  was  no  longer  in  her  first  youth,  but  her  face 
seemed  even  more  lovelier  than  when  he  married 
her,  so  Richard  Burton  thought.  He,  too,  was  a 
man  of  fine  presence,  with  a  frank,  open  face,  that 
invariably  won  the  favor  of  those  who  met  him  for 
the  first  time.  He  was  in  the  full  vigor  of  man- 
hood, and  when  he  and  his  wife  attended  the  Meth- 
odist Church  on  Sundays,  many  eyes  were  attracted 
by  the  handsome  couple.  They  had  one  son,  Bob, 
who  will  soon  receive  attention. 

"I  have  a  great  mind,  Richard,  to  tell  you  why  I 
distrust  and  fear  Aaron  Wolverton,"  said  his  wife, 
after  a  slight  pause. 

"I  wish  you  would,  Mary.  Perhaps,  when  I 
know,  I  can  talk  you  out  of  your  apprehension." 

"Did  you  ever  know  that  Aaron  Wolverton  was 
once  a  suitor  for  my  hand?" 

Richard  Burton  burst  into  an  explosive  laugh. 

"What !  That  dried-up  old  mummy  had  the  pre- 
sumption to  offer  you  his  hand!" 

"He  actually  did,  Richard,"  said  Mrs.  Burton, 
smiling. 

"I  wonder  you  did  not  laugh  in  his  face.  Why, 
the  man  is  fifteen  years  older  than  I  am,  twenty 
years  older  than  you." 

"That  difference  is  not  unprecedented.  I  did  not 
reject  him  because  he  was  older  than  myself.     If 


BOB  BURTON  5 

you  had  been  as  old  as  he  when  you  offered  your- 
self, I  think  I  would  have  accepted  you." 

"Poor,  old  fellow !  Did  he  take  it  hard !"  asked 
Burton,  half  jocosely. 

"If  you  mean  did  he  show  any  traces  of  a  broken 
heart,  I  answer  no.  But  when,  after  pressing  his 
suit  persistently,  he  found  my  resolution  to  be  in- 
flexible, his  face  became  distorted  with  passion.  He 
swore  that  he  would  be  revenged  upon  me  some 
day,  and  that  if  I  dared  to  marry  anyone  else  he 
would  never  rest  till  he  had  brought  harm  to  the 
husband  of  my  choice." 

"I  wish  I  had  been  there.  I  would  have  made 
him  take  back  those  words,  or  I  would  have  horse- 
whipped him." 

"Don't  take  any  notice  of  them,  Richard,"  said 
Mary  Burton,  hastily.    "It  will  be  much  better." 

"I  agree  with  you,"  said  her  husband,  his  quick 
anger  melting.  "After  all,  the  old  fellow's  disap- 
pointment was  so  great  that  I  can  excuse  a  little 
impetuosity,  and  even  rudeness.  You  see,  Mary, 
Wolverton  isn't  a  gentleman." 

"No;  and  never  will  be." 

"He  acted  as  his  nature  prompted.  But  it  was 
all  over  years  ago.  Why,  Mary,  he  is  always 
friendly  with  me,  even  if  I  am  your  husband." 

"That  is  on  the  outside,  Richard ;  but  I  fear  he 
is  crafty.  He  is  like  an  Indian ;  his  thirst  for  ven- 
geance keeps  alive." 


6  BOB  BURTON 

"Admitting  all  that,  though  I  don't,  what  harm 
can  he  do,  Mary,  while  I  am  here  to  protect  you  ?" 
and  the  husband  expanded  his  breast  in  conscious 
strength,  and  looked  down  proudly  on  his  fair  wife. 
"Why,  I  could  wring  his  neck  with  only  one  hand." 

"Well,  perhaps  I  am  foolish,  Richard,"  the  wife 
admitted. 

"Of  course  you  are,  Mary." 

Just  then  Clip  put  his  head  inside  the  door. 

"De  hoss  is  ready,  massa,"  he  said. 

"All  right,  Clip.    I'll  come  right  out." 

Richard  Burton  kissed  his  wife  hastily,  and  went 
out. 

As  he  closed  the  door,  a  bright,  handsome  boy, 
strongly  made  and  bearing  a  resemblance  to  both 
father  and  mother,  entered. 

"Hello,  mother!    Are  you  all  right?"  he  asked. 

"I  hope  so,  Robert." 

"You  look  serious,  as  if  you  were  worrying  over 
something." 

"I  was  thinking  of  Mr.  Wolverton.  Your  father 
has  gone  to  pay  him  interest  on  the  mortgage." 

"Wolverton  is  a  mean,  old  hunks.  He's  got  a 
nephew  living  with  him,  a  boy  about  my  age.  He 
works  him  nearly  to  death,  and  I  am  sure  the  poor 
boy  doesn't  get  half  enough  to  eat." 

"I  was  wishing  your  father  didn't  owe  money  to 
such  a  man." 

"Oh,  well,  mother,  there's  no  use  in  worrying. 


BOB  BURTON  7 

It's  only  three  thousand  dollars,  and  if  we  have  a 
good  crop  next  year  father  will  be  able  to  pay  off 
at  least  half  of  it.  You  can  see  we've  got  a  splendid 
ranch,  mother.  There  isn't  another  within  twenty 
miles  where  the  land  is  as  rich." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  see  the  day  when  the  mort- 
gage is  wholly  paid  off,  and  we  are  out  of  debt." 

"So  shall  I,  mother." 

"Does  Mr.  Wolverton  ever  take  any  notice  of 
you,  Robert?" 

"He  took  some  notice  of  me  this  morning," 
laughed  Bob.  "That  reminds  me.  I  just  left  three 
prairie  chickens  with  Rachel  in  the  kitchen." 

"Did  you  shoot  them  this  morning,  Robert?" 

"Yes,  mother;  you  see,  I  have  my  hunting  clothes 
on.  But  I  shot  two  more.  I  was  bringing  them 
home  across  a  field  of  Wolverton's,  when  the  old 
fellow  suddenly  made  his  appearance,  and,  charg- 
ing me  with  shooting  them  on  his  land,  laid  claim 
to  them.  I  denied  the  charge,  and  told  him  I  pro- 
posed to  keep  them.  With  that  he  seized  me  by 
the  collar,  and  we  had  a  rough-and-tumble  fight  for 
five  minutes." 

"Oh,  Robert,  how  impudent!" 

"Well,  mother,  it  was  more  than  flesh  and  blood 
could  stand.  The  upshot  of  it  was  that  I  left  him 
lying  on  his  back  trembling  with  rage.  I  threw 
down  two  of  the  chickens  to  appease  him.  I  hope 
he'll  have  them  for  dinner,  and  Sam'll  get  a  share 


8  BOB  BURTON 

of  them.  The  poor  fellow  is  half  starved.  I  don't 
believe  he  gets  a  square  meal  once  a  week." 

"I  am  afraid  you  have  made  an  enemy  of  Mr. 
Wolverton,  Robert." 

"I  can't  help  it,  mother.  Would  you  have  me 
bow  down  to  him,  and  meekly  yield  up  my  rights?" 

"But,  Robert,  to  get  into  a  fight  with  a  man  so 
much  older!" 

"I  don't  want  to  get  into  any  difficulty,  mother. 
It  was  forced  upon  me.  Besides,  I  left  him  two  of 
the  chickens." 

"Was  Clip  with  you?" 

"I  reckon  I  was,  missis,"  said  Clip,  displaying 
his  ivories.  "I  laughed  like  to  split  when  Massa 
Bob  laid  de  old  man  down  on  his  back.  Wasn't  he 
jest  ravin'  ?  Wouldn't  have  lost  dat  sight,  missis, 
for  de  biggest  watermillion  I  ever  seed." 

Mrs.  Burton  smiled,  but  her  smile  was  a  faint 
one.  She  knew  Aaron  Wolverton,  and  she  feared 
that  some  time  or  other  he  would  try  to  be  re- 
venged on  Bob. 


BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  II 

AARON  WOLVERTON 

Richard  Burton  drove  rapidly  to  the  village. 
I  may  state  here  that  the  name  of  the  township  was 
Carver.  Like  most  Western  villages,  it  consisted 
principally  of  one  long,  central  street,  containing 
buildings  of  all  sizes  and  descriptions,  from  a  three- 
story  hotel  to  a  one-story  office.  But  there  seemed 
to  be  a  good  deal  going  on  all  the  time — much  more 
than  in  an  Eastern  town  of  the  size.  Western  peo- 
ple are  active,  progressive,  never  content  to  stand 
still.  In  the  drowsy  atmosphere  that  pervades 
many  an  Eastern  country  town  they  would  stag- 
nate, but  there  perpetual  motion  is  the  rule. 

Everybody  in  Carver  knew  Richard  Burton. 
Everybody  liked  him,  also;  he  was  easy  and  social 
with  all.  I  have  said  everybody,  but  I  must  make 
one  exception,  and  that  was  the  man  on  whom  he 
now  proposed  to  call. 

About  midway  on  the  main  street  was  a  small, 
one-story  building,  about  twelve  feet  square.  Above 
the  door  was  a  sign : 


io  BOB  BURTON 

AARON  WOLVERTON, 
Real  Estate  Agent. 

Mr.  Wolverton  had  considerable  capital,  which 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  lending  on  mortgage,  always 
for  a  large  interest,  and  on  substantial  security. 
He  was  supposed  to  t  :  rich,  but  did  not  live  like  a 
rich  man.  His  dwelling  lay  a  little  way  back  from 
the  street;  it  was  small,  cramped  and  uncomforta- 
ble, and  his  style  of  living  was  of  the  most  economi- 
cal character.  He  was  a  bachelor,  and  the  only 
other  members  of  his  family  were  his  sister,  Sally 
Wolverton,  who  resembled  her  brother  in  person 
and  character,  and  a  i  ephew,  Sam,  the  son  of  a 
brother,  who  came  in  for  a  liberal  share  of  ill  treat- 
ment from  the  undo,  on  whom  he  was  dependent. 

Richard  Burton  reined  up  in  front  of  Wolver- 
ton's  office,  and,  leaping  from  his  carriage,  uncere- 
moniously opened  the  outer  door. 

"Good  morning,  Wolverton,"  he  said,  cheerily. 

Aaron  Wolverton,  a  meager  and  wrinkled  man 
of  fifty-five,  looked  up  from  his  desk,  and  scanned 
his  visitor's  face  attentively.  He  was  not  sure  but 
Richard  Burton,  who  was  a  high-spirited  man,  had 
come  to  take  him  to  task  for  his  attack  upon  Bob  a 
short  time  before.    Whenever  he  thought  of  it,  he 


BOB  BURTON  n 

fairly  trembled  with  rage  and  humiliation,  for  the 
boy  had  conquered  him,  and  he  knew  it. 

Burton's  words  reassured  him. 

"I  have  come  to  pay  interest  on  the  mortgage, 
Wolverton.  I  suppose  you  haven't  forgotten  that?" 
.   "No." 

"Catch  you  forgetting  a  thing  of  that  kind.  That 
wouldn't  be  like  you." 

"I  suppose  you  don't  want  to  lift  the  mortgage  ?" 

"No;  it  is  all  I  can  do  to  pay  the  interest.  The 
first  six  months  have  passed  remarkably  quick." 

"Not  to  me." 

"No;  for  you  are  to  receive  money,  I  to  pay  it. 
It  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world.  I  suppose 
you  are  not  in  need  of  the  money  ?" 

"No,  not  at  present,"  answered  Wolverton, 
slowly;  "but  if  I  had  it  I  could  get  higher  interest." 

"Higher  interest !  Isn't  ten  per  cent,  enough  for 
you?" 

"Nothing  is  enough,  as  long  as  I  can  get  more." 

"Come,  Wolverton,  don't  be  such  a  money  grab- 
ber.   You  must  be  rolling  in  money." 

The  old  man  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  depreca- 
tion. 

"Times  are  dull,  and — I  lose  money  sometimes," 
he  said. 

"Not  much,  if  you  know  it,"  said  Burton,  jocose- 
ly. "Well,  just  write  a  receipt  for  six  months  in- 
terest, one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars." 


12  BOB  BURTON 

Aaron  Wolverton  took  the  proffered  bills,  eying 
them  with  eager  cupidity,  and  put  them  away  in  his 
desk.  Then  he  made  out  a  receipt,  and  handed  it 
to  his  visitor. 

"You  will  be  paying  the  mortgage  next  year?" 
he  said,  inquiringly. 

"I  don't  know,  Wolverton.  If  the  crops  are 
good,  I  may  pay  a  part.  But  I  am  afraid  I  am  not 
a  very  good  manager.  I  can't  save  money  like  you, 
and  that  brings  me  round  to  the  question :  For 
whom  are  you  piling  up  all  this  wealth?  Is  it  for 
Sam?" 

"Sam  is  a  young  loafer,"  said  Wolverton,  with  a 
frown.  "I  give  him  a  home  and  his  living,  and  he 
is  almost  too  lazy  to  breathe." 

"You  were  not  that  way  at  his  age?" 

"No.  I  worked  early  and  late.  I  was  a  poor 
boy.    All  that  I  have  I  made  by  hard  work." 

"Take  my  advice,  Wolverton,  and  get  the  worth 
of  it  while  you  live.  But  perhaps  you  are  saving 
with  a  view  to  matrimony.    Ha,  ha  !" 

And  Richard  burst  into  a  ringing  laugh. 

Wolverton  puckered  up  his  face  and  snarled : 

"Why  shouldn't  I  marry  if  I  choose?  What  is 
there  to  laugh  at?" 

"No  reason  at  all.  I  advise  you  to  marry.  You 
ought  to,  for  I  have  found  happiness  in  marrying 
one  of  the  sweetest  women  in  the  world." 

"Then  without  any  apparent  reason,  remember- 


BOB  BURTON  13 

ing  that  the  man  before  him  had  aspired  to  the 
hand  of  his  wife,  he  burst  into  another  laugh,  which 
he  kept  up  till  the  tears  ran  from  his  eyes.  He 
didn't  notice  the  evil  expression  which  it  called  up 
in  the  face  of  the  money  lender. 

"I'd  like  to  kill  him  where  he  stands,"  thought 
Aaron  Wolverton.  "She  must  have  told  him  about 
me.  Curse  him !  he  stole  her  from  me,  and  now  he 
dares  to  laugh  in  my  face  !" 

But  Wolverton  was  not  a  man  to  indulge  even 
his  evil  temper  when  it  was  impolitic  to  do  so.  He 
forced  himself  to  look  indifferent,  and  merely  said : 

"Let  them  laugh  that  win,  Mr.  Burton.  Per- 
haps my  time  may  come  some  day." 

"Perhaps  it  may,  Wolverton.  I  heartily  hope 
that  you  may  find  some  one  to  make  your  life 
happy.  I  am  happy  myself,  and  I  like  to  see  others 
happy." 

There  was  a  little  more  conversation,  and  then 
Richard  Burton  went  out. 

"Good-by,  Wolverton.  Come  to  my  ranch  some- 
time. I'll  give  you  a  seat  at  supper,  and  we  will 
smoke  a  cigar  afterward." 

The  colt — for  it  was  scarcely  more  than  that — 
was  getting  restless.  It  was  pawing  the  ground  and 
evidently  anxious  to  get  away. 

"Your  horse  has  a  bad  temper,  Mr.  Burton," 
said  Wolverton. 


J4  BOB  BURTON 

"Yes,  he  needs  taming.  He's  not  well  trained 
yet." 

"There's  something  more  than  that,"  Wolverton 
said  to  himself,  thoughtfully.  "Horses  are  like 
men — they  often  have  nasty  tempers.  I  wouldn't 
ride  behind  that  brute  for — for  the  money  Burton 
has  just  paid  me.  Some  day  he'll  get  upset,  or 
thrown.  And  if  he  does,"  he  continued,  after  a 
pause,  "why  should  I  lament?  He  has  taken  from 
me  the  only  woman  I  ever  loved.  She  might  have 
made  a  different  man  of  me — perhaps." 

Just  then  a  boy  came  up  the  street.  He  stopped 
and  eyed  Aaron  Wolverton,  with  a  little  misgiving. 

"Sam,"  said  Wolverton,  sharply,  "what  kept  you 
so  long?    Do  you  want  the  strap  again?" 

"Indeed,  uncle,  I  hurried  as  fast  as  I  could.  Mr. 
Jenks  kept  me  waiting." 

"That  is  probably  a  lie,"  growled  Wolverton. 
"However,  since  you  are  here,  go  in  to  your  dinner. 
It  is  cold  by  this  time,  most  likely." 

It  was  cold  and  uninviting,  but  Sam  could  not 
afford  to  be  dainty,  and  ate  what  was  set  before 
him  by  his  aunt. 


BOB  BURTON  15 


CHAPTER  III 

A  LITTLE  RETROSPECT 

Richard  Burton,  three  years  previous  to  the 
opening  of  this  story,  was  a  dry-goods  merchant  in 
St.  Louis.  Becoming  tired  of  the  dull  routine  of 
his  daily  life,  and  with  a  wistful  remembrance  of 
the  country,  where  he  had  passed  his  boyhood,  he 
sold  out  his  business  for  a  few  thousand  dollars, 
and  with  the  sum  realized  bought  a  large  ranch 
located  on  a  small  river  or  creek  running  into  the 
Missouri. 

In  taking  this  course  he  was  influenced  in  no 
small  degree  by  a  city  acquaintance,  Aaron  Wol- 
verton,  who  six  months  before  had  located  himself 
in  the  same  township,  and  who,  indeed,  had  made 
the  purchase  of  the  ranch  on  his  behalf.  Wolver- 
ton  made  a  large  commission  on  the  transaction — 
larger  than  Richard  Burton  was  aware ;  but  it  must 
be  admitted  he  had  bought  him  an  excellent  prop- 
erty. Burton  was  entirely  unacquainted  with  the 
fact  that  Wolverton  had  at  an  earlier  period  been 
an  unsuccessful  suitor  for  his  wife's  hand,  nor  did 


1 6  BOB  BURTON 

he  know  it  till  the  morning  on  which  our  story 
opens. 

It  is  always  rather  a  hazardous  experiment  when 
a  man,  engaged  till  middle  life  in  other  business, 
becomes  a  tiller  of  the  soil  without  special  training 
for  his  new  occupation.  Few  persons  make  farm- 
ing profitable,  however  well  qualified,  and  the  St.  , 
Louis  merchant  was  hardly  likely  to  do  more  than 
make  a  living.  In  fact,  he  did  not  make  both  ends 
meet,  but  fell  behind  every  year  till  he  felt  com- 
pelled to  borrow  three  thousand  dollars  on  mort- 
gage of  Aaron  Wolverton.  His  wife  expressed 
uneasiness,  but  he  laughed  away  her  remonstrances, 
and  assured  her  he  should  be  able  to  pay  it  back  in 
a  couple  of  years,  if  fortune  favored  him  with  good 
crops. 

"You  know,  Mary,"  he  said,  cheerfully,  "there 
are  a  good  many  extra  expenses  just  at  first,  but  it 
will  be  different  in  future.  Wolverton  assures  me 
that  the  ranch  is  a  fine  one,  and  that  I  can  pay  him 
back  sooner  than  he  desires,  for  he  is  glad  to  lend 
on  such  excellent  security." 

Mrs.  Burton  was  silent,  but  she  was  not  con- 
vinced. 

Robert  Burton,  popularly  called  Bob,  was  the 
only  son  of  the  ex-merchant.  He  thoroughly  en- 
joyed the  removal  to  the  country,  having  a  taste  for 
manly  sports.  He  usually  spent  a  part  of  the  day  in 
study,  reciting  to  a  clergyman  in  the  village,  and 


BOB  BURTON  17 

the  rest  of  his  time  he  employed  in  hunting,  fishing 
and  farm  work.  Clip,  the  young  refugee,  was  his 
chosen  companion,  and  was  sincerely  attached  to 
Massa  Bob,  as  he  generally  called  him.  The  negro 
lad  was  full  of  fun  and  innocent  mischief,  but  had 
no  malice  about  him.  Bob  tried  to  teach  him  to 
read,  but  Clip  was  no  scholar.  He  complained  that 
study  made  his  head  ache. 

"But  you  ought  to  know  something,  Clip,"  ex- 
postulated Bob.  "You  don't  want  to  grow  up  an 
ignoramus." 

"What's  dat?"  asked  Clip,  bewildered.  "Never 
heard  such  a  long  word.    Is  it  anything  very  bad?" 

"It  means  a  know-nothing,  Clip." 

"I  guess  you're  right,  Massa  Bob.  Dat's  what 
I  am." 

"But  don't  it  ti.     ie  you,  Clip?" 

"No,  Massa  Boo ,  uess  I  was  never  cut  out  for 
a  scholar." 

Still  Bob  persevered  in  his  effort  to  teach  Clip. 

One  day,  after  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  get 
him  to  understand  the  difference  between  capital 
B  and  R,  he  said:  "Clip,  I  don't  believe  you  have 
got  any  sense." 

"Spec's  I  haven't,  Massa  Bob,"  answered  Clip, 
philosophically.    "How  many  have  you  got?" 

Bob  laughed. 

"I  don't  know  exactly,"  he  replied!  "but  I  hope 
I  have  as  many  as  the  average." 


1 8  BOB  BURTON 

"I  reckon  you've  got  a  lot.  You  learn  awful 
easy." 

"I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  learn  for  both  of 
us,  Clip." 

"Dat's  so,"  said  Clip,  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction. 
"Dat'll  do  just  as  well." 

So  Bob  was  finally  obliged  to  give  up  teaching 
Clip  in  despair.  He  was  led  to  accept  the  conclu- 
sion of  his  young  protege  that  he  was  never  meant 
for  a  scholar. 

In  one  respect  Bob  and  Clip  shared  the  preju- 
dices of  Mrs.  Burton.  Neither  liked  Aaron  Wol- 
verton.  They  felt  friendly,  however,  to  Sam  Wol- 
verton,  the  nephew;  and  more  than  once  Sam,  with 
his  appetite  unsatisfied  at  home,  came  over  to  Bur- 
ton's Ranch  and  enjoyed  a  hearty  lunch,  thanks  to 
the  good  offices  of  Bob  Burton. 

One  day  he  came  over  crying,  and  showed  the 
marks  of  a  severe  whipping  he  had  received  from 
his  uncle. 

"What  did  you  do,  Sam  ?"  asked  Bob. 

Sam  mentioned  the  offense,  which  was  a  trifling 
one,  and  unintentional  besides. 

"Your  uncle  is  a  brute,"  said  Bob,  indignantly. 

"Dat's  so,  Sam,"  echoed  Clip. 

"It  would  do  me  good  to  lay  the  whip  over  his 
shoulders." 

Sam  trembled,  and  shook  his  head.    He  was  a 


BOB  BURTON  19 

timid  boy,  and  such  an  act  seemed  to  him  to  border 
on  the  foolhardy. 

"How  old  are  you,  Sam  ?" 

"Fourteen." 

"In  seven  years  you  will  be  a  man,  and  he  can't 
tyrannize  over  you  any  longer." 

"I  don't  believe  I  shall  live  so  long,"  said  Sam, 
despondently. 

"Yes,  you  will.  Even  in  four  years,  when  you 
are  eighteen,  your  uncle  won't  dare  to  beat  you." 

"Why  don't  you  run  away,  like  I  did?"  asked 
Clip,  with  a  bright  idea. 

But  Sam  was  not  of  the  heroic  type.  He  shrank 
from  throwing  himself  on  the  world. 

"I  should  starve,"  he  said.  "Would  you  run 
awav,  Clip,  if  you  were  in  my  place?" 

"Wouldn't  I  just!" 

"And  you,  Bob?" 

"He  wouldn't  strike  me  but  once,"  said  Bob, 
proudly. 

"It's  all  well  enough  for  you,  but  I  think  I'm  a 
coward.  When  my  uncle  comes  at  me  my  heart 
sinks  into  my  boots,  and  I  want  to  run  away." 

"You'll  never  make  a  hero,  Sam." 
1      "No,  I  won't.     I'm  an  awful  coward,  and  I 
know  it." 

"How  is  your  aunt?  Is  she  any  better  than  your 
uncle?" 

"She's  about  the  same.    She  don't  whip  me,  but 


20  BOB  BURTON 

she's  got  an  awful  rough  tongue.  She  will  scold  till 
she's  out  of  breath." 

"How  long  have  you  lived  with  your  uncle?" 

"About  four  years.  When  my  father  died,  he 
told  me  to  go  to  Uncle  Aaron." 

"Didn't  he  leave  any  property?" 

"Uncle  Aaron  says  he  didn't  leave  a  cent,  and  I 
suppose  it's  so;  but  father  told  me  in  his  last  sick- 
ness there'd  be  some  property  for  me." 

"I've  no  doubt  there  was,  and  he  cheated  you  out 
of  it,"  said  Bob,  indignantly.  "That's  just  my 
opinion  of  your  uncle." 

"Even  if  it  is  so,  I  can't  do  anything.  It'll  do  no 
good.  But  I'd  like  to  know  how  it  is,  for  Uncle 
Aaron  is  all  the  time  twitting  me  with  living  on 
him." 

"As  if  you  don't  do  enough  to  earn  your  own 
living.  Why,  you  work  harder  than  Clip,  here, 
though  that  isn't  saying  much,"  added  Bob,  with  a 
smile. 

Clip  showed  his  white  teeth,  and  seemed  to  enjoy 
the  joke. 

"Spec's  I  was  born  lazy,"  he  said,  promptly. 
"Dat  ain't  my  fault,  ef  I  was  born  so." 

"That  wouldn't  be  any  excuse  with  Uncle 
Aaron,"  remarked  Sam.  "He  thinks  I'm  lazy,  and 
says  he  means  to  lick  the  laziness  out  of  me." 

"I  think  we  had  better  hire  out  Clip  to  him.  He 
needs  a  little  discipline  of  that  sort." 


BOB  BURTON  21 

"Oh,  golly,  Massa  Bob!  I  couldn't  stand  it 
nohow,"  said  Clip,  with  a  comical  expression  of 
alarm.  "Massa  Wolverton's  the  meanest  white 
man  I  ever  seed.  Wish  an  earthquake  would  come 
and  swallow  him  up." 

"Your  father  was  round  to  see  my  uncle  this 
morning,"  said  Sam. 

"Yes,  I  know;  he  went  to  pay  him  some  interest 
money." 

"Your  father  is  a  nice  gentleman.  I  wish  I  was 
his  nephew,"  said  poor  Sam,  enviously. 

"Yes,  Sam;  he's  always  kind.  He's  a  father  to 
be  proud  of." 

"By  the  way,  Sam,  I've  got  some  good  news  for 
you." 

"What  is  it,  Bob?" 

"Your  uncle  carried  home  a  pair  of  prairie 
chickens  this  morning.  You'll  have  one  good  din- 
ner, at  least." 

"Where  did  he  get  them?" 

"I  shot  them." 

"And  ypu  gave  them  to  him?"  asked  Sam,  sur- 
prised. 

"Well,  yes,  after  a  little  squabble,"  and  Bob  re- 
lated the  adventure  of  the  morning. 

"How  brave  you  are,  Bob!"  said  Sam,  admir- 
ingly. "You  actually  had  a  quarrel  with  Uncle 
Aaron?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Bob,  with  a  smile.    "When  I 


22  BOB  BURTON 

got  through,  your  uncle  was  lying  on  his  back  rest- 
ing. I  threw  down  two  of  the  chickens,  as  much 
for  your  sake  as  any  other  reason.  I  hope  you'll 
get  your  share." 

"I  saw  the  chickens  in  the  kitchen  before  I  came 
away,  and  wondered  where  they  came  from.  I 
knew  Uncle  Aaron  wouldn't  buy  them." 

"Has  your  uncle  got  a  gun?" 

"No;  I  think  he's  afraid  of  a  gun." 

"And  you  are  afraid  of  him?" 

"I  can't  help  it,  Bob.  He  flogs  me  sometimes 
with  a  horsewhip." 

"I'd  like  to  see  him  try  it  on  me,"  said  Bob,  with 
emphasis.  "But  as  I  said  before,  you'll  be  a  man 
sometime,  Sam,  and  then  he  won't  dare  touch  you." 


BOB  BURTON  23 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  SUDDEN  SUMMONS 

When  Richard  Burton  left  the  office  of  Aaron 
Wolverton,  he  did  not  return  home  immediately. 
He  had  a  business  call  to  make  in  the  next  town- 
ship, and  drove  over  there.  Finding  that  he  was 
likely  to  be  detained,  he  went  to  the  hotel  to  dine, 
and,  the  day  being  warm,  sat  on  the  piazza  and 
smoked  a  cigar  afterward.  It  was  not  until  four 
o'clock  that  he  turned  his  horse's  head  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Carver. 

The  horse  he  drove  was  young  and  untrained. 
It  would  have  been  dangerous  for  an  unskillful 
driver  to  undertake  to  manage  him.  Robert  Bur- 
ton, however,  thoroughly  understood  horses,  and 
was  not  afraid  of  any,  however  fractious.  But  he 
had  been  persuaded  to  drink  a  couple  of  glasses  of 
whisky  by  acquaintances  at  the  hotel,  and  he  was 
easily  affected  by  drink  of  any  kind.  So  his  hand 
was  not  as  strong  or  steady  as  usual  when  he  started 
on  his  homeward  journey. 


24  BOB  BURTON 

The  horse  seemed  instinctively  to  know  that 
there  was  something  the  matter  with  his  driver, 
and,  as  he  turned  back  his  head,  knowingly,  he  pre- 
pared to  take  advantage  of  it.  So  he  made  himself 
more  troublesome  than  usual,  and  Burton  became 
at  first  annoyed  and  then  angry. 

"What  ails  you,  you  vicious  brute?"  he  ex- 
claimed, frowning.     "You  need  a  lesson,  it  seems." 

He  gave  a  violent  twitch  to  the  reins,  more  vio- 
lent than  he  intended,  and  the  animal  swerved  aside 
suddenly,  bringing  one  wheel  of  the  wagon  into 
forcible  collision  with  a  tree  by  the  roadside.  This, 
coming  unexpectedly,  threw  Richard  Burton  vio- 
lently from  his  seat,  and  he  was  pitched  out  of  the 
carriage,  his  head  being  thrown  with  force  against 
the  tree  which  had  been  the  occasion  of  the  shock. 

There  was  a  dull,  sickening  thud,  and  the  poor 
man  lay  insensible,  his  eyes  closed  and  his  breast 
heaving. 

The  horse  detached  himself  from  the  wagon  and 
ran  home — they  were  within  half  a  mile  of  the  vil- 
lage now — leaving  his  driver  without  sense  or  mo- 
tion beside  the  wrecked  wagon. 

He  had  lain  there  not  over  twenty  minutes,  when 
a  pedestrian  appeared  upon  the  scene. 

It  was  Aaron  Wolverton  who  was  on  his  way  to 
the  house  of  a  tenant  to  collect  rent.  He  had  been 
walking  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground,  think- 
ing intently,  when  all  at  once,  raising  his  eyes,  he 


BOB  BURTON  25 

started  in  amazement  at  the  sight  of  the  wrecked 
carriage  and  the  prostrate  man. 

"Who  can  it  be?"  he  asked  himself  in  excite- 
ment. 

His  eyes  were  failing,  and  he  could  not  distin- 
guish, till  close  at  hand,  the  person  of  the  stricken 
man. 

"Robert  Burton!"  he  exclaimed  in  excitement, 
when  at  last  he  discovered  who  he  was.  "How  on 
earth  did  this  happen?" 

He  bent  over  the  prostrate  man  and  placed  his 
hand  upon  his  heart.  Alas !  it  had  already  ceased 
to  beat.  The  features  wore  a  startled  and  troubled 
look,  the  reflection  of  the  feelings  excited  by  the 
collision. 

"Well,  well!"  exclaimed  Wolverton,  awed  in 
spite  of  himself  by  the  sight,  "who  would  have 
dreamed  of  this?  and  only  this  morning  he  called 
on  me  to  pay  his  interest." 

There  was  a  sudden  suggestion,  begotten  of  his 
greed,  that  entered  that  instant  into  WolvertonY 
mind. 

"He  can't  have  gone  home  since,"  he  bethought 
himself.    "He  must  have  the  receipt  with  him." 

Even  if  he  had,  what  did  it  concern  Wolverton  ? 
The  money  had  been  paid,  but  there  was  no  evi- 
dence of  it  except  the  receipt  which  he  had  given 
him. 

With    trembling    fingers,    Wolverton,    bending 


26  BOB  BURTON 

over,  searched  the  clothes  of  the  dead  man,  half 
turning  his  eyes  away,  as  if  he  feared  to  meet  Rob- 
ert Burton's  look. 

At  last  he  found  it.  Burton  had  thrust  it  care- 
lessly into  his  vest  pocket. 

With  a  furtive  look,  to  see  if  he  were  observed, 
Aaron  Wolverton  put  the  receipt  into  his  own 
pocket.  Then  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and  turned  to  go 
away.  He  had  no  desire  to  remain  any  longer  by 
the  side  of  the  dead. 

Meanwhile  the  horse  had  dashed  into  the  village 
at  wild  speed.  Now  it  happened  that  Clip,  sent  on 
an  errand  to  the  store  by  Mrs.  Burton,  was  in  the 
village.  His  eyes  opened  wide  when  he  saw  the 
horse  dash  by  him. 

"What's  datmean?"  Clip  asked  himself,  staring 
with  all  his  eyes  at  the  runaway  horse.  "What's 
come  of  Massa  Burton?  Must  have  been  an  acci- 
dent. Wagon  must  have  upset,  and — golly  1 1  hope 
Massa  Burton  isn't  killed  nor  not'ing." 

Clip  was  alive  with  excitement.  He  had  the 
sense  not  to  attempt  to  follow  the  horse,  but  ran 
as  fast  as  he  could  in  the  direction  from  which  the 
horse  had  come.  There,  he  argued,  must  be  the 
wagon  and  its  rider. 

It  was  a  straight  road,  and  he  was  not  long  in 
reaching  the  scene  of  the  casuality.  He  came  in 
sight  of  it  at  the  moment  when  Aaron  Wolverton 


BOB  BURTON  27 

was  bending  over  the  prostrate  man,  and  searching 
his  pockets. 

Here  was  another  surprise  to  Clip.  "What  is 
Massa  Wolverton  doing?"  he  asked  himself.  He 
was  sure  he  was  not  up  to  any  good,  for,  as  we  have 
already  seen,  he  had  no  love  for  the  real-estate 
agent,  and  thought  him  a  very  bad  man.  Clip  had 
no  small  share  of  curiosity,  and,  intent  on  finding 
out  what  Wolverton  was  doing,  he  slid  behind  a 
tree  about  a  foot  in  diameter,  which  happened  to  be 
conveniently  situated.  Grief  struggled  with  curios- 
ity, for  Clip  had  already  seen  the  wrecked  team  and 
the  prostrate  figure  of  his  kind  master,  to  whom  he 
felt  warmly  attached. 

"Poor  Massa  Burton!  I  hope  he  isn't  dead," 
thought  Clip.  "Jes'  as  soon  as  old  Wolverton  goes 
away  I'll  go  up  and  look.  Won't  Mrs.  Burton  feel 
bad?" 

All  the  while  Clip  was  watching  the  movements 
of  the  real-estate  agent. 

"What's  he  searchin'  Massa  Burton's  pockets 
for?"  he  asked  himself.  "Spec's  he's  going  to  rob 
him.  Didn't  think  the  old  man  was  so  mean  before. 
I'd  jes'  like  to  jump  out  and  scare  him." 

Meanwhile  Wolverton  finished  his  discreditable 
business,  happily  unconscious  that  anyone  was  wit- 
ness of  his  crime.  Then,  as  already  stated,  he  got 
up  and  walked  swiftly  away,  not  venturing  to  look 
back.     Had  he  done  so  he  would  have  seen  Clip 


28  BOB  BURTON 

stealing  from  behind  the  tree  which  had  served  to 
screen  him  from  observation,  and  running  toward 
the  wreck, 

Clip  had  never  before  seen  death,  but  there  was 
something  in  the  mute  look  of  Richard  Burton  that 
awed  the  soul  of  the  colored  boy. 

Clip  had  an  affectionate  heart.  He  felt  that 
Richard  Burton  must  be  dead,  and  the  thought 
overpowered  him. 

"Poor  Massa  Burton!"  he  cried,  bursting  into 
tears.  "He's  done  dead,  sure  'nough.  Oh,  what 
will  we  do?" 

A  minute  later  Clip  bounded  off  like  a  deer,  to 
carry  the  sad  news  to  the  village. 

He  met  the  village  doctor  driving  along  in  his 
top  buggy  and  he  quickly  called  out  to  him:  "Go 
quick,  Massa  Doctor,  for  de  love  of  God.  Poor 
Massa  Burton's  upset  himself,  and  I  'spec's  he's 
dead." 

"Whereabouts,  Clip?"  demanded  the  doctor, 
startled. 

"Up  the  road  a  piece." 

"Jump  in  with  me  and  show  me." 

So  Clip,  seated  beside  the  doctor,  guided  him  to 
the  fatal  spot. 

The  doctor  lost  no  time  in  jumping  out  of  his 
buggy  and  approached  the  fallen  man.  He  didn't 
need  to  feel  his  pulse,  or  place  his  hand  over  his 


BOB   BURTON  29 

heart.  To  his  practiced  eye  there  were  other  indi- 
cations that  disclosed  the  terrible  truth. 

"Is  he  dead?"  asked  Clip,  in  an  awed  voice. 

"Yes,  Clip ;  your  poor  master  is  dead,"  answered 
the  doctor  sadly. 

He  had  known  Richard  Burton  well,  and,  like 
all  the  rest  of  his  neighbors,  had  a  warm  esteem  for 
him. 

"How  did  this  happen,  Clip?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  know,  Massa  Doctor;  'deed  I  don't," 
answered  Clip.  "I  was  walkin'  along,  when  I  saw 
the  colt  runnin'  like  mad,  wid  his  harness  on,  and  I 
'spected  something  had  happened.  So  I  came  up, 
and  dat's  what  I  saw." 

"We  can't  do  anything,  Clip,  except  to  see  that 
he  is  carried  home.  I  dread  to  break  the  news  to 
his  poor  wife." 

Meanwhile  Aaron  Wolverton  had  locked  him- 
self in  his  office.  He  drew  the  receipt  from  his 
pocket,  read  it  through  carefully,  and  chuckled : 

"I'll  get  the  money  out  of  the  widder.  She  can't 
prove  that  the  interest  had  been  paid !  But  I  don't 
care  so  much  for  that  as  I  do  to  get  even  with  that 
impudent  rascal,  Bob.  He'll  rue  this  day,  as  sure 
as  my  name  is  Aaron  Wolverton." 


30  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  V. 

wolverton's  first  move 

Why  did  not  Aaron  Woolverton  burn  the  re- 
ceipt, and  get  rid  once  for  all  of  the  only  proof  that 
the  interest  had  been  paid?  It  would  have  been 
the  most  politic  thing  to  do,  inasmuch  as  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  be  dishonest.  But,  though  un- 
principled, he  was  not  a  bold  man.  The  thought 
did  certainly  occur  to  him,  and  he  even  went  so  far 
as  to  light  a  match.  But  more  timid  counsel  pre- 
vailed, and  he  concealed  the  paper  in  his  desk, 
carefully  locking  the  desk  afterward. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  describe  the  grief  of  the  little 
family  at  Burton's  Ranch  when  the  body  of  the 
master  was  brought  home.  No  one  had  dreamed 
of  speedy  death  for  Richard  Burton.  He  seemed 
so  strong  and  vigorous  that  it  would  have  seemed 
safe  to  predict  for  him  a  long  life — long  beyond 
the  average;  yet  here,  in  the  middle  of  life,  in  the 
fullness  of  health  and  vigor  the  summons  had  come. 

To  Mrs.  Burton,  who  was  a  most  devoted  wife, 
it  was  a  crushing  blow.    It  seemed  at  first  as  if  it 


BOB  BURTON  31 

would  be  happiness  to  lie  down  beside  her  dead  hus- 
band and  leave  the  world  for  him. 

"What  have  I  to  live  for  now?"  she  asked, 
mournfully. 

"You  have  me,  mother,"  answered  Bob,  gently. 
"I  have  lost  my  father.  What  would  become  of 
me  if  I  should  lose  my  mother  also  ?" 

"You  are  right,  Robert,"  said  Mrs.  Burton.  "I 
was  wrong  to  give  way;  but  it  is  a  very  hard  trial." 

"Indeed  it  is,  mother,"  said  Robert,  kissing  her 
affectionately.     "But  we  must  try  to  bear  up." 

Mrs.  Burton  felt  that  this  was  her  plain  duty, 
and  henceforth  strove  to  control  her  emotions.  She 
ceased  to  sob,  but  her  face  showed  the  grief  she 
suffered. 

The  funeral  took  place,  and  the  little  family 
held  a  council  to  decide  what  was  to  be  done. 

"Can  we  carry  on  the  ranch  now  that  your  father 
is  gone?"  asked  Mrs.  Burton,  anxiously.  "Would 
it  not  be  better  to  sell  it?" 

"No,  mother;  the  sacrifice  would  be  too  great." 

"But  I  do  not  feel  capable  of  managing  it, 
Robert." 

"You  may  think  me  presumptuous,  mother,  but 
my  proposal  is  to  assist  you,  relieving  you  of  the 
greater  part  of  the  care.  Between  us  we  can  carry 
it  on,  I  am  confident." 

"You  are  only  a  boy  of  sixteen,  Robert,"  ob- 
jected his  mother. 


32  BOB  BURTON 

"That  is  true ;  but  I  have  watched  carefully  the 
manner  in  which  the  ranch  has  been  carried  on. 
Of  course  you  must  help,  and  you  will  try  to  get  a 
man  with  whom  I  can  advise.  I  am  sure  we  can 
make  a  good  deal  more  out  of  the  farm  than  we 
could  realize  from  investing  the  money  it  would 
bring." 

"And  are  you  willing  to  undertake  this,  Robert. 
It  will  be  a  hard  task." 

"I'll  help  him,  missis,"  said  Clip,  eagerly. 

"I  shall  have  Clip  to  advise  me,  mother,"  said 
Robert. 

"No  doubt  Clip  is  willing,"  said  Mrs.  Burton, 
smiling  faintly;  "but,  after  all,  it  will  be  only  two 
boys." 

"Try  us  a  single  year,  mother,"  said  Bob  con- 
fidently. 

Mrs.  Burton  gave  her  consent,  and  Bob  at  once 
took  his  father's  place,  rising  early  and  going  to 
the  field  to  superintend  the  farming  operations.  He 
seemed  to  have  developed  at  once  into  a  mature 
man,  though  in  appearance  he  was  still  the  same. 
Clip  was  his  loyal  assistant,  though,  being  a  harum- 
scarum  boy,  fond  of  fun  and  mischief,  he  was  of 
very  little  service  as  adviser. 

He  had  mentioned  to  Bob  seeing  Aaron  Wolver- 
ton  bending  over  the  body  of  his  father,  and  explor- 
ing his  pockets.  This  puzzled  Bob,  but  he  was  not 
prepared  to  suspect  him  of  anything  else  than  cur- 


BOB  BURTON  33 

iosity,  until  his  mother  received  a  call  from  the  real- 
estate  agent  a  month  after  her  husband's  decease. 

Aaron  Wolverton  had  been  anxious  to  call  be- 
fore, but  something  withheld  him.  It  might  have 
been  the  consciousness  of  the  dishonorable  course 
he  had  taken.  Be  that  as  it  may,  he  finally  screwed 
up  his  courage  to  the  sticking  point,  and  walked 
out  to  Burton's  Ranch  early  one  afternoon. 

Mrs.  Burton  was  at  home,  as  usual,  for  she  sel- 
dom went  out  now.  She  had  no  intimate  friends  in 
the  neighborhood.  All  that  she  cared  for  was  under 
her  own  roof. 

She  looked  up  in  some  surprise  when  Mr.  Wol- 
verton was  ushered  into  the  sitting-room. 

"I  hope  I  see  you  well,  Mrs.  Burton,"  said  the 
real-estate  agent,  slipping  to  a  seat,  and  placing  his 
high  hat  on  his  knees. 

"I  am  very  well  in  health,  Mr.  Wolverton,"  an- 
swered the  widow,  gravely. 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course;  I  understand,"  he  hastily 
answered.  "Terrible  sudden,  Mr.  Burton's  death 
was,  to  be  sure,  but  dust  we  are,  and  to  dust  we 
must  return,  as  the  Scripture  says." 

Mrs.  Burton  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  make 
any  reply. 

"I  came  over  to  offer  my  condolence,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Wolverton. 

!Thank  you." 


34  BOB  BURTON 

"And  I  thought  perhaps  you  might  stand  in  need 
of  some  advice  from  a  practical  man." 

"Any  advice  will  be  considered,  Mr.  Wolver- 
ton." 

"I've  been  thinkin'  things  over,  and  I've  about 
made  up  my  mind  that  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is 
to  sell  the  ranch,"  and  the  real-estate  agent  squinted 
at  Mrs.  Burton  from  under  his  red  eyebrows. 

"That  was  my  first  thought ;  but  I  consulted  with 
Robert,  and  he  was  anxious  to  have  me  carry  on  the 
ranch  with  his  help." 

Aaron  Wolverton  shook  his  head. 

"A  foolish  plan  !"  he  remarked.  "Excuse  me  for 
saying  so.  Of  course  you,  being  a  woman,  are  not 
competent  to  carry  it  on " 

"I  have  my  son,  Robert,  to  help  me,"  said  the 
widow. 

Aaron  Wolverton  sniffed  contemptuously. 

"A  mere  boy!"  he  ejaculated. 

"No;  not  a  mere  boy.  His  father's  death  and 
his  affection  for  me  have  made  a  man  of  him  at  six- 
teen. He  rises  early  every  morning,  goes  to  the 
fields,  and  superintends  the  farming  operations. 
Peter,  my  head  man,  says  that  he  is  a  remarkably 
smart  boy,  and  understands  the  business  about  as 
well  as  a  man." 

"Still  I  predict  that  he'll  bring  you  deeper  in 
debt  every  year." 

"I  don't  think  so;  but,  at  any  rate,  I  have  prom- 


BOB  BURTON  35 

ised  to  try  the  experiment  for  one  year.  I  can  then 
tell  better  whether  it  will  be  wise  to  keep  on  or 
sell." 

"Now,  Mrs.  Burton,  I  have  a  better  plan  to  sug- 
gest." 

"What  is  it,  Mr.  Wolverton?" 

"In  fact,  I  have  two  plans.  One  is  that  you 
should  sell  the  ranch.  You  know  I  hold  a  mort- 
gage on  it  for  three  thousand  dollars?" 

"I  know  it,  Mr.  Wolverton!"  answered  the 
widow,  gravely. 

"I'll  give  you  three  thousand  dollars  over  and 
above,  and  then  you  will  be  rid  of  all  care." 

"Will  you  explain  to  me  how  Robert  and  I  are 
going  to  live  on  the  interest  of  three  thousand  dol- 
lars, Mr.  Wolverton?" 

"You'll  get  something,  and  if  the  boy  runs  the 
ranch  you'll  get  nothing.  He  can  earn  his  living, 
and  I  don't  think  you  will  suffer,  even  if  you  have 
only  three  thousand  dollars." 

"It  is  quite  out  of  the  question.  Mr.  Burton 
considered  the  ranch  worth  ten  thousand  dollars." 

"A  very  ridiculous  overvaluation — pardon  me 
for  saying  so." 

"At  any  rate,  I  don't  propose  to  sell." 

"There's  another  little  circumstance  I  ought  to 
mention,"  said  Wolverton,  nervously.  "There  is 
half  a  year's  interest  due  on  the  mortgage.  It  was 
due  on  the  very  day  of  your  husband's  death." 


36  BOB  BURTON 

Mrs.  Burton  looked  up  in  amazement. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Wolverton?"  she 
said.  "My  husband  started  for  your  office  on  the 
fatal  morning  of  his  death,  carrying  the  money — 
one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars — to  meet  the  interest. 
Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  he  did  not  pay  it?" 

"That  is  strange,  very  strange,"  stammered 
Aaron  Wolverton,  wiping  his  forehead  with  a  ban- 
danna handkerchief.  "What  became  of  the 
money  ?' 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  it  was  not  paid  to 
you?"  asked  the  widow,  sharply. 

"No,  it  was  not,"  answered  Wolverton,  with 
audacious  falsehood. 


BOB  BURTON  37 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    LOST    RECEIPT 

"I  can't  understand  this,"  said  Mrs.  Burton, 
beginning  to  be  troubled.  "My  poor  husband  had 
made  all  arrangements  for  paying  his  interest  on 
the  day  of  his  death.  When  he  left  the  house,  he 
spoke  of  it.  Do  you  mean  to  say  he  did  not  call  at 
your  office?" 

If  Aaron  Wolverton  had  dared,  he  would  have 
denied  this,  but  Mr.  Burton  had  been  seen  to  enter 
the  office,  and  so  that  lie  would  not  do  him  any 
good. 

"He  did  call  upon  me,  Mrs.  Burton." 

"And  said  nothing  about  the  interest?" 

"He  said  this,  that  he  would  pay  me  the  coming 
week." 

"He  said  that,  when  he  had  the  money  in  his 
pocket?"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  incredulously. 

"Of  course  I  didn't  know  that  he  had  the  money 
with  him.  He  probably  thought  of  another  way  in 
which  he  wanted  to  use  a  part  or  all  of  it." 

"I  don't  believe  it.     He  never  mentioned  any 


38  BOB  BURTON 

other  use  for  it,  and  he  was  not  owing  any  one  ex- 
cept you.  Mr.  Wolverton,  I  don't  like  to  say  it, 
but  I  think  he  paid  you  the  interest." 

"Do  you  doubt  my  word?"  demanded  Wolver- 
ton, with  assumed  indignation. 

"Suppose  I  say  that  you  have  forgotten  it." 

"I  would  not  forget  anything  of  that  kind.  You 
are  very  unjust,  Mrs.  Burton,  but  I  will  attribute 
that  to  your  disappointment.  Let  me  suggest  one 
thing,  however.  If  your  husband  had  paid  me,  he 
would  have  been  sure  to  take  a  receipt.  If  you 
have  his  wallet  here — I  happen  to  know  that  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  carrying  a  wallet — and  you 
doubt  my  word,  examine  the  wallet  and  see  if  you 
can  find  the  receipt." 

Mrs.  Burton  thought  this  a  good  suggestion,  and 
went  upstairs  for  the  wallet.  She  opened  it,  but,  as 
Wolverton  had  good  reason  to  know  would  be  the 
case,  failed  to  find  the  important  paper. 

"I  can't  find  it,"  she  said,  as  she  re-entered  the 
room. 

"Did  I  not  tell  you  so?"  returned  Wolverton, 
triumphantly.  "Doesn't  that  settle  it?  Wasn't 
your  husband  a  good  enough  business  man  to  re- 
quire a  receipt  for  money  paid?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  murmured  the  widow.  "Mr.  Wol- 
verton, if  you  are  right  it  arouses  in  my  mind  a 
terrible  suspicion.  Could  my  husband  have  been 
waylaid,  murdered  and  robbed?" 


BOB  BURTON  39 

"No,  I  don't  think  so.  His  death  was  evidently 
the  result  of  accident — the  upset  of  his  team." 

"What,  then,  became  of  the  money — the  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars  which  he  carried  with  him?" 

"There,  my  dear  lady,  you  ask  me  a  question 
which  I  cannot  answer.  I  am  as  much  in  the  dark 
as  you  are." 

"If  this  story  is  true,  then  we  are  one  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  poorer  than  we  supposed.  It  will 
be  bad  news  for  Robert." 

"It  need  not  be  bad  news  for  you,  Mrs.  Burton," 
said  Wolverton,  in  an  insinuating  tone,  shoving  his 
chair  a  little  nearer  that  occupied  by  the  widow. 

Mrs.  Burton  looked  up  in  surprise. 

"How  can  it  fail  to  be  bad  news  for  me?"  she 
asked.    "A  loss  like  that  I  cannot  help  feeling." 

"Do  you  think  I  would  be  hard  on  you,  Mrs. 
Burton?"  asked  Wolverton,  in  the  same  soft  voice. 

"If  you  are  disposed  to  wait  for  the  money,  or 
relinquish  a  part  under  the  circumstances,  Robert 
and  I  will  feel  very  grateful  to  you,  Mr.  Wolver- 
ton." 

"I  might,  upon  conditions,"  said  the  agent,  fur- 
tively shoving  his  chair  a  little  nearer. 

"What  conditions?"  asked  Mrs.  Burton,  sus- 
piciously. 

"I  will  tell  you,  if  you  won't  be  offended.  Mrs. 
Burton — Mary — you  can't  have  forgotten  the 
early  days  in  which  I  declared  my  love  for  you. 


4o  BOB  BURTON 

I — I  love  you  still.  If  you  will  only  promise  to 
marry  me — after  a  while — all  shall  be  easy  with 
you.  I  am  a  rich  man — richer  than  people  think, 
and  can  surround  you  with  luxuries.  I  will  be  a 
father  to  that  boy  of  yours,  and  try  to  like  him  for 
your  sake.    Only  tell  me  that  you  will  be  mine  !" 

Mrs.  Burton  had  been  so  filled  with  indignation 
that  she  let  him  run  on,  quite  unable  to  command 
her  voice  sufficiently  to  stem  the  torrent  of  his 
words.  As  he  concluded,  she  rose  to  her  feet,  her 
eyes  flashing  and  her  voice  tremulous  with  anger, 
and  said:  "Mr.  Wolverton,  are  you  aware  that 
my  poor  husband  has  been  dead  but  a  month?" 

"I  am  perfectly  aware  of  it,  Mary." 

"Don't  address  me  so  familiarly,  sir." 

"Mrs.  Burton,  then,  I  am  perfectly  acquainted 
with  that  fact,  and  would  not  have  spoken  now,  but 
I  wished  to  reassure  you.  Of  course  I  wouldn't 
hurry  you;  I  only  meant  to  get  some  kind  of  an 
answer  that  I  might  depend  upon." 

"And  you  thought  that,  after  loving  such  a  man 
as  Richard  Burton,  I  would  be  satisfied  to  take  such 
a  man  as  you?"  said  the  widow,  with  stinging  sar- 
casm. 

"Richard  Burton  was  not  an  angel,"  said  Wol- 
verton, harshly,  for  his  pride  was  touched  by  the 
contempt  which  she  made  no  effort  to  conceal. 

"Don't  dare  to  say  anything  against  him,"  said 
the  widow,  her  eyes  flashing  ominously. 


BOB  BURTON  4* 

"Well,  then,  he  was  an  angel,"  said  Wolverton, 
sulkily;  "but  he's  dead,  and  you  will  need  to  look 
to  another  protector." 

"My  son  will  protect  me,"  said  Mrs.  Burton, 
proudly. 

"That  boy?"  said  Wolverton,  contemptuously. 
"But  I  make  allowance  for  a  mother's  feelings. 
Once  more,  Mary,  I  make  you  the  offer.  Remem- 
ber that  I  am  a  rich  man,  and  can  surround  you 
with  luxuries." 

"I  would  rather  live  in  a  log  house  on  a  crust 
than  to  marry  you,  Mr.  Wolverton,"  she  said,  im- 
petuously. "If  you  were  the  only  man  in  the  world, 
I  would  go  unmarried  to  my  grave  rather  than  wed 
you." 

Wolverton  rose,  white  with  wrath. 

"You  are  tolerably  explicit,  madam,"  he  said. 
"I  can't  charge  you  with  beating  round  the  bush. 
But  let  me  tell  you,  ma'am,  that  you  have  done  the 
unwisest  act  of  your  life  in  making  me  your 
enemy." 

"I  did  not  mean  to  make  you  an  enemy,"  said 
Mrs.  Burton,  softening.  "I  suppose  I  ought  to 
acknowledge  the  compliment  you  have  paid  me,  but 
I  must  decline,  once  for  all,  and  request  you  never 
again  to  mention  the  subject." 

Aaron  Wolverton  was  not  so  easily  appeased. 

"I  do  not  care  to  stay  any  longer,"  he  said.  "You 
had  better  mention  to  your  son  about  the  interest." 


42  BOB  BURTON 

Mrs.  Burton  had  an  opportunity  to  do  this  al- 
most immediately,  for  Bob  and  Clip  entered  the 
house  just  as  Wolverton  was  leaving  it. 

"What  have  you  done  to  Mr.  Wolverton,  moth- 
er?" asked  Bob.  "He  looked  savage  enough  to 
bite  my  head  off,  and  wouldn't  even  speak  to  me." 

"Robert,  I  have  some  bad  news  to  tell  you.  Mr. 
Wolverton  tells  me  that  your  father  didn't  pay  him 
the  interest  on  the  day  of  his  death." 

"I  believe  he  tells  a  falsehood,"  said  Bob, 
quickly. 

"But  he  says,  with  some  show  of  reason,  if  the 
interest  was  paid,  why  didn't  your  father  take  a 
receipt?" 

"Can  no  receipt  be  found?" 

"No;  I  searched  your  father's  wallet  in  vain." 

"What  is  a  receipt,  missis?"  asked  Clip. 

"It's  a  piece  of  paper  with  writing  on  it,  Clip," 
said  the  widow,  adjusting  her  explanations  to  Clip's 
intelligence. 

"Golly !  I  saw  de  old  man  take  a  piece  of  paper 
from  Massa  Burton's  pocket  after  he  was  dead — 
when  he  was  a-lyin'  on  the  ground." 

"Say  that  again,  Clip,"  said  Bob,  eagerly. 

Clip  repeated  it,  and  answered  several  questions 
put  to  him  by  Mrs.  Burton  and  Bob. 

"It's  all  clear,  mother,"  said  Bob.  "That  old 
rascal  has  got  up  a  scheme  to  rob  you.  He  thinks 
there  isn't  any  proof  of  the  payment.     If  he  sus- 


BOB  BURTON  43 

pected  that  Clip  had  been  a  witness  of  his  robbery 
he  would  have  been  more  careful." 

"What  shall  I  do,  Bob?" 

"Wait  a  while.  Let  him  show  his  hand,  and 
then  confront  him  with  Clip's  testimony.  I  wonder 
if  he  destroyed  the  receipt?" 

"Probably  he  did  so." 

"If  he  didn't,  I  may  get  it  through  Sam.  Don't 
be  worried,  mother.    It'll  all  come  out  right." 

One  thing  the  widow  did  not  venture  to  tell  Bob 
— about  Mr.  Wolverton's  matrimonial  offer.  It 
would  have  made  him  so  angry  that  she  feared  he 
would  act  imprudently. 


44  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  VII 

wolverton' s  adventure  with  clip 

Bob  and  his  mother  deliberated  as  to  whether 
they  should  charge  Mr.  Wolverton  openly  with  the 
theft  of  the  receipt.  On  the  whole,  they  decided  to 
wait  a  while,  and  be  guided  by  circumstances.  If 
he  took  any  measures  to  collect  the  money  a  second 
time,  there  would  be  sufficient  reason  to  take  the 
aggressive. 

Bob  had  another  reason  for  delay.  He  intended 
to  acquaint  Sam  Wolverton  with  the  matter,  and 
request  him  to  keep  on  the  lookout  for  the  receipt. 
Should  he  find  it,  he  knew  that  Sam  would  gladly 
restore  it  to  the  rightful  owner.  He  cautioned  Clip 
not  to  say  anything  about  what  he  saw  on  the  day 
of  his  father's  death,  as  it  would  put  Wolverton  on 
his  guard,  and  lead  him  to  destroy  the  receipt  if 
still  in  his  possession. 

I  must  now  relate  a  little  incident  in  which  Clip 
and  Aaron  Wolverton  were  the  actors. 

The  creek  on  which  Burton's  Ranch  was  located 


BOB  BURTON  45 

was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant  from  the  house.  It 
was  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide.  Over  on  the 
other  side  of  the  creek  was  the  town  of  Martin, 
which  was  quite  as  large  as  Carver.  In  some  re- 
spects it  was  a  more  enterprising  place  than  Carver, 
and  the  stores  were  better  stocked.  For  this  reason 
there  was  considerable  travel  across  the  creek;  but 
as  there  was  no  bridge,  the  passage  must  be  made 
by  boat. 

Bob  owned  a  good  boat,  which  he  and  Clip  used 
considerably.  Both  were  good  rowers,  and  during 
Mr.  Burton's  life  they  spent  considerable  time  in 
rowing  for  pleasure.  Now  Bob's  time  was  so  occu- 
pied that  the  boat  was  employed  only  when  there 
was  an  errand  in  the  opposite  village. 

"Clip,"  said  Bob,  one  morning,  "I  want  you  to 
go  down  to  Martin." 

"Yes,  Massa  Bob,"  said  Clip,  with  alacrity,  for 
he  much  preferred  such  a  jaunt  to  working  in  the 
fields. 

The  errand  was  to  obtain  a  hammer  and  a  supply 
of  nails  at  the  variety  store  in  Martin.  Clip  was 
rather  given  to  blunder,  but  still  there  was  no  rea- 
son why  he  should  not  execute  the  errand  satisfac- 
torily. 

Clip  went  down  to  the  creek,  and  unfastened  the 
boat.  He  jumped  in,  and  began  to  paddle  away, 
when  he  heard  a  voice  calling  him. 

"Here  you,  Clip!" 


46  BOB  BURTON 

Looking  around,  Clip  recognized  in  the  man 
hailing  him  Aaron  Wolverton. 

Mr.  Wolverton  did  not  own  any  boat  himself, 
and  when  he  had  occasion  to  go  across  the  river  he 
generally  managed  to  secure  a  free  passage  with 
some  one  who  was  going  over.  If  absolutely  neces- 
sary, he  would  pay  a  nickel;  but  he  begrudged  even 
this  small  sum,  so  mean  was  he. 

Clip  stopped  paddling,  and  answered  the  call. 

"Hi,  Massa  Wolverton;  what's  the  matter?" 

"Come  back  here." 

"Whatfo'?" 

"I  want  you  to  take  me  over  to  Martin." 

Now  Clip  was  naturally  obliging,  but  he  disliked 
Wolverton  as  much  as  one  of  his  easy  good  nature 
could  do.    So  he  felt  disposed  to  tantalize  him. 

"Can't  do  it,  Massa  Wolverton.  I'm  in  a  terri- 
ble hurry." 

"It  won't  take  you  a  minute  to  come  back." 

"Massa  Bob  will  scold." 

"You  needn't  mind  that,  boy.  Come  back,  I 
say!" 

"I  dassn't." 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  you  little  nigger.  I'll  pay  you." 

"What'll  you  give?"  asked  Clip,  cautiously. 

"I'll  give  you — a  cent." 

"Couldn't  do  it,  nohow.  What  good's  a  cent  to 
me?" 


BOB  BURTON  47 

"A  cent's  a  good  deal  of  money.  You  can  buy 
a  stick  of  candy." 

"  'Tain't  enough,  Massa  Wolverton.  I  ain't 
goin'  to  resk  gettin'  licked  for  a  cent." 

Cunning  Clip  knew  that  there  was  no  danger  of 
this,  but  he  thought  it  would  serve  as  an  argument. 

"I'll  give  you  two  cents,"  said  Wolverton,  impa- 
tiently. 

"Couldn't  do  it,"  said  Clip.  "Ef  it  was  five, 
now,  I  might  'sider  it." 

Finally  Wolverton  was  obliged  to  accede  to 
Clip's  terms,  and  the  colored  boy  pushed  the  boat 
to  shore,  and  took  in  his  passenger. 

"Can  you  row  good,  Clip?"  asked  Wolverton, 
nervously,  for  he  was  very  much  afraid  of  the 
water,  and  he  had  never  had  Clip  for  a  boatman 
before. 

"You  jes'  bet  I  can,  Massa  Wolverton.  I  can 
row  'mos'  as  good  as  Massa  Bob." 

"Well,  show  it  then;  I  am  in  a  hurry  to  get  over 
the  creek." 

Clip  rowed  to  the  middle  of  the  creek,  and  then 
stopped  paddling. 

"I  reckon  you'd  better  pay  me  the  money  now, 
Massa  Wolverton,"  he  said. 

"Why,  you  young  rascal,  are  you  afraid  to  trust 
me?" 

"I  dunno  'bout  dat;  but  I  wants  my  money." 


48  BOB  BURTON 

"You  haven't  earned  it  yet.  What  are  you  afraid 
of?" 

"You  might  forget  to  pay  me,  Massa  Wolver- 
ton." 

"No,  I  shan't.    Push  on." 

"I'm  goin'  to  sleep,"  said  Clip,  lying  back  in  a 
lazy  attitude. 

"You  young  rascal!  I've  a  good  mind  to  fetch 
you  a  slap  on  the  side  of  the  head." 

"Better  not,  Massa  Wolverton,"  drawled  Clip. 
"Might  upset  the  boat." 

"Give  me  the  oars,"  said  Wolverton,  impa- 
tiently. 

He  took  them;  but  he  had  never  rowed  in  his 
life,  and  he  almost  immediately  turned  the  boat 
around. 

"Hi,  yah!"  laughed  Clip,  delighted.  "Where 
was  you  raised,  Massa  Wolverton,  not  to  under- 
stand rowin'  no  better  dan  dat?" 

"Take  the  oars,  you  black  scoundrel,  and  row 
me  across,  or  I'll  pitch  you  out  of  the  boat." 

"Ef  you  do,  what'll  'come  of  you,  Massa  Wol- 
verton?" said  Clip,  not  at  all  alarmed. 

This  was  indeed  an  important  consideration  for 
a  man  so  timid  on  the  water  as  the  real-estate  agent. 

"You  put  me  out  of  all  patience,"  said  Wolver- 
ton, furiously.  "Are  you  going  to  row  or  are  you 
not?" 

"I  want  my  money,"  said  Clip. 


BOB  BURTON  49 

Wolverton  was  compelled  to  hand  over  a  nickel, 
but  registered  a  vow  that  if  ever  he  caught  Clip  on 
land,  he  would  make  him  pay  for  his  impudence. 

Clip  took  the  oars,  and  made  very  good  progress 
till  he  was  about  fifty  feet  from  the  other  side  of 
the  creek.  Then  he  began  to  make  the  boat  rock, 
stopping  his  rowing. 

"What  are  you  about?"  shouted  Wolverton, 
turning  pale. 

"It's  good  fun,  ain't  it,  Massa  Wolverton?"  said 
Clip,  laughing  insolently. 

"Stop,  you  little  rascal !    You'll  upset  the  boat." 

"Golly!  ain't  dis  fun?"  said  Clip,  continuing  his 
rocking. 

"I'll  choke  you,  if  you  don't  stop,"  screamed 
Wolverton. 

He  rose  to  catch  hold  of  Clip.  The  boy  jumped 
up,  and  ducked  his  head.  The  result  of  the  com- 
bined motion  was  that  the  boat,  which  was  flat- 
bottomed,  capsized,  and  the  two  were  thrown  into 
the  water. 

There  was  no  danger,  for  the  water  at  this  point 
was  only  four  feet  deep,  and  Clip  could  swim,  while 
Aaron  Wolverton  was  too  tall  to  be  drowned  in 
that  depth  of  water. 

Wolverton  was  almost  scared  out  of  his  wits. 
He  cut  such  a  ludicrous  figure  as  he  floundered  in 
the  water  that  Clip  screamed  with  delight.  The 
black  boy  swam  to  the  boat,  and,  managing  to  right 


50  BOB  BURTON 

her,  got  in  again;  but  Wolverton  waded  to  the 
shore,  almost  beside  himself  with  rage. 

"Is  you  wet,  Massa  Wolverton?"  asked  Clip, 
innocently,  showing  his  white  teeth. 

"Come  ashore,  and  I'll  lick  you,"  shouted  Wol- 
verton, who  had  by  this  time  landed,  his  clothes 
dripping  wet. 

"I  reckon  I'm  too  busy,"  answered  Clip,  with  a 
grin.  "I'm  sorry  you's  wet,  Massa  Wolverton. 
Hi,  yah!" 

"I'll  wring  your  neck,  you  young  tike!"  said 
Wolverton,  savagely. 

"Dat  old  man's  a  hog,"  mused  Clip.  "Ain't 
much  like  my  poor  old  gran'ther.  He  was  always 
kin'  an'  good.  I  mind  him  sittin'  in  front  of  de  ole 
cabin  door  down  in  Arkansaw.  I  'spec'  de  old 
chap's  done  dead  afore  this,"  concluded  Clip,  with 
a  sigh. 

Clip  kept  at  a  safe  distance  from  shore,  and  the 
agent  was  compelled  to  defer  his  vengeance,  and  go 
to  the  house  of  an  acquaintance  to  borrow  some  dry 
clothes. 

When  he  returned,  it  is  needless  to  say  that  it 
was  not  in  Clip's  boat. 

He  opened  his  desk,  to  enter  a  business  transac- 
tion in  his  account  book,  when  he  made  a  startling 
discovery. 

The  receipt  had  disappeared ! 


BOB  BURTON  51 


CHAPTER  VIII 

wolverton's  dismay 

Wolverton  uttered  a  cry  of  dismay  when  he 
found  that  the  receipt  had  disappeared.  With 
trembling  fingers  he  turned  over  a  pile  of  papers  in 
the  hope  of  finding  the  important  paper. 

"Where  on  earth  can  it  be?"  he  asked  himself, 
with  a  troubled  face. 

He  set  himself  to  consider  when  he  had  seen  it 
last  and  where  he  had  placed  it. 

"It  must  be  in  the  desk  somewhere,"  he  decided, 
and  resumed  his  search.  Those  of  my  readers  who 
had  mislaid  any  article  can  picture  to  themselves 
his  increasing  perplexity  as  the  missing  paper  failed 
to  turn  up. 

He  was  finally  obliged  to  conclude  that  it  was  not 
in  the  desk.  But,  if  so,  where  could  it  be?  If  not 
found,  or  if  found  by  any  one  else,  his  situation 
would  be  an  embarrassing  one.  He  had  assured 
Mrs.  Burton  that  the  interest  money  had  not  been 
paid.  Now  suppose  the  receipt  were  found,  what 
would   be   the    inference?      He    could   not   help 


Si  BOB  BURTON 

acknowledging  that  it  would  look  bad  for  him. 
Until  he  learned  something  of  its  whereabouts  he 
would  not  dare  to  press  Mrs.  Burton  for  a  second 
payment  of  the  interest  money. 

"It  is  as  bad  as  losing  a  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars," he  groaned.     "It  is  a  pile  of  money  to  lose." 

Aaron  Wolverton  did  not  appear  to  consider  that 
it  was  losing  what  was  not  his  property,  and  was 
only  preventing  him  from  pushing  a  fraudulent 
claim.  He  actually  felt  wronged  by  this  inoppor- 
tune loss.  He  felt  somehow  that  he  was  the  victim 
of  misfortune. 

But  what  could  have  become  of  the  receipt? 
That  was  what  troubled  him.  Was  there  anybody 
who  was  responsible  for  its  disappearance?  Natu- 
rally it  would  be  important  for  Mrs.  Burton  to  get 
hold  of  it ;  but  then,  they  did  not  know  of  its  exist- 
ence. They  had  no  evidence  that  the  receipt  had 
even  been  delivered  to  Richard  Burton.  Still  it 
was  possible  that  Bob  Burton  had  visited  the  house, 
and  searched  his  desk.  He  would  inquire  of  his 
sister. 

He  opened  the  door  leading  to  the  kitchen, 
where  Miss  Sally  Wolverton  was  engaged  in  some 
domestic  employment. 

"Sally,  has  the  Burton  boy  been  here  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"No ;  why  should  he  come  ?  He  isn't  one  of  your 
visitors,  is  he?" 


BOB  BURTON  53J 

"Was  he  here  yesterday?" 

"No;  what  makes  you  ask?" 

"There  was  a  little  business,  connected  with  the 
farm,  which  he  might  have  come  about." 

"I  am  glad  he  didn't  come,"  said  Sally.  "He's 
too  high-strung  for  me." 

"I  don't  like  him  myself;  but  sometimes  we  have 
to  do  business  with  those  we  don't  like." 

"That's  so.    How's  the  widder  left?" 

"She's  got  the  ranch,  but  I  hold  a  mortgage  of 
three  thousand  dollars  on  it,"  replied  her  brother, 
his  features  expanding  into  a  wintry  smile.  A  man 
who  can  laugh  heartily  possesses  redeeming  traits, 
even  if  in  some  respects  he  is  bad;  but  Aaron  Wol- 
verton  had  never  been  known  to  indulge  in  a  hearty 
laugh. 

"Can  she  pay?" 

"Not  at  present." 

"Is  the  mortgage  for  a  term  of  years?" 

"No;  it  can  be  called  in  at  the  end  of  any  year." 

"I  never  liked  that  woman,"  said  Miss  Sally 
Wolverton,  grimly. 

Sally  Wolverton  did  not  like  any  woman  who 
was  younger  and  prettier  than  herself,  and  there 
were  few  who  were  not  prettier.  She  had  never 
known  of  her  brother's  infatuation  for  the  lady  she 
was  criticising,  otherwise  she  would  have  been 
tempted  to  express  herself  even  more  strongly.  She 
was  strongly  opposed  to  his  marriage,  as  this  would 


54  BOB  BURTON 

have  removed  her  from  her  place  in  his  household, 
or,  even  if  she  remained,  would  have  deprived  her 
of  her  power.  Aaron  did  not  care  at  present  to 
take  her  into  his  confidence.  Still  he  could  not  for- 
bear coming,  in  a  faint  way,  to  the  defense  of  the 
woman  he  admired. 

"Mrs.  Burton  is  a  fine-looking  woman,"  he  said. 

"Fine-looking!"  repeated  Sally,  with  a  contemp- 
tuous sniff.    "I  don't  admire  your  taste." 

"She  isn't  in  your  style,  Sally,"  said  Aaron,  with 
a  sly  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

Sally  Wolverton  was  taller  than  her  brother, 
with  harsh  features,  a  gaunt,  angular  figure,  and 
an  acid  expression. 

"I  hope  not,"  she  answered.  "I  hope  I  don't 
look  like  an  insipid  doll." 

"You  certainly  don't,  Sally;  you  have  expression 
enough,  I  am  sure." 

"Do  you  think  Mrs.  Burton  pretty?"  asked 
Sally,  suspiciously. 

"Oh,  so  so!"  answered  Aaron,  guardedly;  for 
he  did  not  care  to  reveal  the  secret  to  his  sister  at 
present.  She  was  useful  to  him  as  a  housekeeper, 
and  moreover — an  important  point — she  was  very 
economical;  more  so  than  any  person  whom  he 
could  hire.  He  did  indeed  pay  his  sister  but  only  a 
dollar  a  week,  and  out  of  this  she  saved  nearly  one- 
half,  having  the  gift  of  economy  in  quite  as  large 
a  measure  as  himself. 


BOB  BURTON  SS 

iThis  assurance,  and  her  brother's  indifferent 
tone,  relieved  Sally  from  her  momentary  suspicion. 
Yet,  had  she  been  able  to  read  her  brother's  secret 
thoughts,  she  would  have  been  a  prey  to  anxiety. 
He  had  made  up  his  mind,  if  ever  he  did  marry 
Mrs.  Burton,  to  give  Sally  her  walking  ticket. 

"I  can't  afford  to  support  two  women,"  he  re- 
flected, "and  my  wife  ought  to  be  able  to  do  all  the 
work  in  so  small  a  household." 

"Why  are  you  so  anxious  to  know  whether  any 
of  the  Burtons  have  been  here?" 

"I  thought  they  might  come,"  answered  her 
brother,  evasively.  "You  haven't  seen  anything  of 
that  black  imp,  Clip,  have  you?" 

"No;  has  he  any  business  with  you?" 

"I  have  some  business  with  him,"  snarled  Wol- 
verton.     "He  played  a  trick  on  me  this  morning." 

"What  sort  of  a  trick?" 

"I  got  him  to  carry  me  across  the  creek  in  his 
boat,  and  he  managed  to  upset  me." 

"Did  he  do  it  a-purpose?" 

"Yes;  he  laughed  like  a  hyena  when  he  saw  me 
floundering  in  the  water." 

"If  he  comes  round  here,  I'll  give  him  a  lesson. 
I  can't  abide  a  nigger  anyway.  They're  as  lazy  as 
sin,  and  they  ain't  got  no  more  sense  than  a  monkey. 
It's  my  opinion  they  are  a  kind  of  monkey,  any- 
way." 

Fortunately  for  the  colored  race  all  are  not  so 


56  BOB  BURTON 

prejudiced  against  them  as  Sally  Wolverton — 
otherwise  they  would  be  in  a  bad  case. 

"By  the  way,  Sally,  have  you  seen  a  stray  paper 
about  the  floor  in  my  room?"  asked  Wolverton, 
with  assumed  carelessness. 

"What  sort  of  a  paper  was  it  ?" 

"It  was  a — a  receipt,"  answered  her  brother, 
hesitating. 

"What  kind  of  a  receipt — from  whom?"  asked 
Sally,  who  possessed  her  share  of  general  curiosity. 

"That  isn't  to  the  point.  If  you  have  seen  such 
a  paper,  or  picked  it  up,  I  shall  feel  relieved.  I 
might  have  to  pay  the  money  over  again  if  I  don't 
find  it." 

This  was  misrepresenting  the  matter,  but  Wol- 
verton did  not  think  it  expedient  to  give  his  sister  a 
clew  to  so  delicate  a  secret. 

"No;  I  have  seen  no  paper,"  she  said,  shortly, 
not  relishing  his  evasive  reply.  "Have  you  searched 
your  desk?" 

"Yes." 

"And  didn't  find  it?" 

"No." 

"Suppose  I  look.  Four  eyes  are  better  than 
two." 

"No,  thank  you,  Sally,"  answered  her  brother, 
hastily.  "I  am  particular  about  not  having  my 
papers  disturbed." 

Aaron  Wolverton  would  have  gained  some  val- 


BOB  BURTON  57 

liable  information  touching  the  missing  paper  if  he 
could  have  transferred  himself  at  that  moment  to 
Burton's  Ranch. 

Bob  and  Clip  were  out  in  the  yard  when  Sam 
Wolverton  made  his  appearance,  breathless  and 
excited. 

"What's  the  matter,  Sam?"  asked  Bob,  wonder- 
ing. 

"Let  me  catch  my  breath,"  gasped  Sam.  "I — 
I've  got  some  good  news." 

"Then  you  are  welcome.  Has  your  uncle  got 
married?" 

"No;  nor  Aunt  Sally  either,"  replied  Sam. 
"What  do  you  say  to  that?"  and  he  drew  from  his 
vest  pocket  a  long  strip  of  paper. 

"What's  that?"  asked  Bob,  eagerly. 

"It's  the  receipt,"  answered  Sam. 


58  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  IX 

sam's  gift 

"What!"  exclaimed  Bob,  in  great  excitement. 
"Not  the  receipt  for  the  money?" 

"That's  just  what  it  is,"  answered  Sam,  nodding 
emphatically. 

"Let  me  see  it." 

Sam  put  the  paper  in  Bob's  hand. 

There  it  was  in  regular  form,  a  receipt  for  one 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  being  the  semi-annual 
interest  on  a  mortgage  on  Burton's  Ranch,  dated 
on  the  day  of  Richard  Burton's  death,  and  signed 
by  Aaron  Wolverton. 

"Hurrah  !"  shouted  Bob,  waving  it  aloft.  "Then 
father  did  pay  it,  after  all,  and  that  mean  scoundrel 
— excuse  my  speaking  of  your  uncle  in  such  terms, 
Sam " 

"I  don't  mind,"  said  Sam,  philosophically. 

"That  mean  scoundrel  wanted  us  to  pay  the 
money  a  second  time.  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged  to 
you,  Sam.    But  where  on  earth  did  you  find  it?" 

"I'll  tell  you,   Bob,"  answered  Sam,  perching 


BOB  BURTON  59 

himself  on  the  fence.  "This  afternoon  Uncle 
Aaron  started  out  on  business — I  don't  know  where 
he  went." 

"I  know,"  said  Clip,  giving  way  to  a  burst  of 
merriment. 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"I  rowed  him  across  de  creek.  I  was  out  in  de 
boat  when  old  Massa  Wolverton  come  along  and 
axed  me  to  take  him  across.  I  made  him  pay  me  a 
nickel,  and  he  got  into  de  boat,"  and  Clip  began  to 
laugh  once  more. 

"I  don't  see  anything  to  laugh  at,  Clip." 

"You  would,  Massa  Bob,  ef  you'd  been  dar.  We 
was  almost  across  when  de  old  boat  upset,  yah ! 
yah !  and  old  Massa  Wolverton — it  makes  me 
laugh  like  to  split — tumbled  into  de  water,  and  got 
wet  as  a  drownded  rat." 

"Clip,  you  bad  boy,  you  did  it  on  purpose,"  said 
Bob,  trying  to  look  stern. 

"Wish  I  may  die!"  answered  Clip,  stoutly,  for 
he  was  not  an  imitator  of  George  Washington. 
"Didn't  de  old  man  look  mad,  dough?  He  jest 
shook  his  fist  at  me,  and  called  me  a  black  imp, 
'deed  he  did." 

"I  am  afraid  he  was  right,  Clip,"  said  Bob,  shak- 
ing his  head.  "But  you  haven't  told  me  about  the 
receipt,  Sam." 

"He  sent  me  into  his  room  to  get  his  hat,  when 
right  down  on  the  floor  by  his  desk  I  saw  a  piece  of 


60  BOB  BURTON 

paper.  I  remembered  what  you  told  me,  Bob, 
about  the  receipt,  so  I  picked  it  up  and  slipped  it 
into  my  pocket.  I  had  to  be  quick  about  it,  for 
Uncle  Aaron  is  always  in  a  hurry.  Well,  I  took 
out  the  hat,  and  I  didn't  dare  to  take  out  the  paper 
and  look  at  it  till  he  was  out  of  sight." 

"And  then " 

"Well,  then  I  saw  it  was  the  paper  you  wanted." 

"Mr.  Wolverton  took  it  from  the  pocket  of  my 
poor  father  when  he  lay  dead  on  the  spot  where  he 
was  thrown  out,"  said  Bob,  gravely.  "It  would  be 
hard  to  think  of  a  meaner  piece  of  rascality." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  got  it,  Bob.  I  don't  know 
as  I  was  right  in  taking  it,  but  I'll  take  the  risk." 

"If  you  never  do  anything  worse  than  that, 
Sam,  you  won't  have  much  to  answer  for.  I  wish 
you'd  let  me  give  you  something." 

"No,  Bob,  you  are  my  friend,  and  it  would  be  a 
pity  if  I  couldn't  do  you  a  favor  without  getting 
paid  for  it." 

"But  this  is  a  great  favor.  It  is  worth  a  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars.  Without  it  we  might,  and  proba- 
bly would,  have  to  pay  the  interest  money  over 
again.  Now,  when  your  uncle  calls  for  it,  we  shall 
only  have  to  show  him  the  receipt." 

"He'll  wonder  where  it  came  from." 

"I  hope  it  won't  get  you  into  trouble,  Sam." 

"He  won't  suspect  me.  He'll  know  I  couldn't 
break  into  his  desk,  and  he  won't  know  anything 


BOB  BURTON  61 

about  having  dropped  it  on  the  floor.  I  don't  see 
how  he  came  to  be  so  careless." 

"Depend  upon  it,  Sam,  it  was  the  work  of  Provi- 
dence. Mother  says  that  God  often  overrules  the 
designs  of  the  wicked,  and  I  think  this  is  an  in- 
stance. Henceforth,  Sam,  though  you  are  old  Wol- 
verton's  nephew,  I  shall  consider  you  a  friend  of 
our  family.  Why  can't  you  stay  to  supper  to- 
night?" 

"It  would  never  do,  Bob,  unless  I  asked  permis- 
sion." 

"Then  ask  permission." 

"I  am  afraid  it  wouldn't  be  granted." 

"If  your  uncle  is  as  mean  as  I  think  he  is,  he 
would  be  glad  for  you  to  get  a  meal  at  the  expense 
of  somebody  else." 

"He  wouldn't  like  to  have  me  enjoy  myself," 
said  Sam. 

"Is  he  so  mean  as  that?" 

"Whenever  he  hears  me  singing,  he  looks  mad, 
and  wants  to  know  why  I  am  making  a  fool  of 
myself." 

"He's  an  uncle  to  be  proud  of,"  said  Bob,  ironi- 
cally. 

"I  just  wish  I  could  Y.ve  at  your  house,  Bob." 

"Perhaps  I  can  make  an  exchange,  and  give  Clip 
to  your  uncle  instead  of  you." 

"Oh,  Massa  Bob,  don't  you  do  it,"  exclaimed 
Clip,   looking   scared.      "Old   Massa  Wolverton 


62  BOB  BURTON 

would  kill  me,  I  know  he  would.  He  hates  niggers, 
I  heard  him  say  so." 

Bob  and  Sam  laughed,  being  amused  by  the  evi- 
dent terror  of  the  young  colored  boy. 

"I  won't  do  it,  Clip,  unless  you  are  very  bad," 
said  Bob,  gravely,  "though  I  think  Sam  would  be 
willing  to  change." 

"Indeed  I  would,"  said  Sam,  with  a  sigh. 
"There's  no  such  good  luck  for  me." 

When  Bob  carried  in  the  receipt  and  showed  it 
to  his  mother,  her  face  lighted  up  with  joy. 

"This  is  indeed  a  stroke  of  good  fortune,"  she 
said ;  "or  rather  it  seems  like  a  direct  interposition 
of  Providence — that  Providence  that  cares  for  the 
widow  and  the  fatherless.  You  must  make  Sam  a 
present." 

"So  I  will,  mother;  but  if  he  understands  it  is  for 
this  he  won't  take  anything." 

"Sam  is  evidently  very  different  from  his  uncle. 
He  is  a  sound  scion  springing  from  a  corrupt  trunk. 
Leave  it  to  me  to  manage.  Won't  he  stay  to 
supper?" 

"Not  to-night.  I  invited  him,  but  he  was  afraid 
to  accept  the  invitation,  for  fear  of  being  pun- 
ished." 

"Is  his  uncle  so  severe,  then?" 

"I  suspect  he  beats  Sam,  though  Sam  doesn't  like 
to  own  it." 


BOB  BURTON  63 

"And  this  man,  this  cruel  tyrant,  want  to  marry 
me,"  thought  Mrs.  Burton,  shuddering. 

Two  days  later  Sam  chanced  to  be  in  the  house 
with  the  two  boys,  when  Mrs.  Burton  passed 
through  the  room,  and  greeted  him  pleasantly. 

"When  is  your  birthday?"  she  asked. 

"Last  week — Thursday — ma'am." 

"How  old  are  you?" 

"Fifteen." 

"Did  you  receive  a  birthday  present?" 

Sam  shook  his  head. 

"There's  no  one  to  give  me  presents,"  he  said. 

"You  have  an  uncle  and  aunt,  Sam." 

"They  never  give  presents.  They  tell  me  I 
ought  to  be  thankful  that  they  take  care  of  me,  and 
save  me  from  going  to  the  poorhouse." 

"There  would  be  no  danger  of  that,  Sam,"  said 
Bob.  "If  your  uncle  ever  turns  you  out  to  shift  for 
yourself,  come  and  live  with  us." 

"I  wish  he  would  turn  me  out  to-morrow,  then," 
said  Sam ;  and  it  was  evident  the  boy  meant  it. 

"Sam,  you  will  permit  me  to  make  up  for  your 
uncle's  neglect,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  kindly.  "Here 
is  a  necktie.  I  bought  it  for  Robert,  but  I  can  get 
another  for  him.  And  here  is  something  else  which 
may  prove  acceptable." 

She  drew  from  her  pocket  a  silver  dollar,  and  put 
it  into  Sam's  hand. 

"Is  this  really  for  me?"  asked  Sam,  joyfully. 


€4  BOB  BURTON 

"Yes;  it  is  only  a  small  gift,  but " 

"I  never  had  so  much  money  before  in  my  life," 
said  Sam.    "It  makes  me  feel  rich." 

Mrs.  Burton  looked  significantly  at  Bob.  Her 
woman's  wit  had  devised  a  way  of  rewarding  Sam 
for  the  service  he  had  done  the  family  without  his 
being  aware  of  it. 

The  gift  was  well  meant,  but  it  was  destined  to 
get  poor  Sam  into  trouble. 


BOB  BURTON  6$ 


CHAPTER  X 

SAM  IN  A  TIGHT  PLACE 

Many  a  man  who  had  come  unexpectedly  into  a 
fortune  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  would  not 
have  felt  so  rich  as  Sam  with  his  silver  dollar.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  he  had  never  before  had 
so  much  money  at  one  time  in  his  life.  The  pros- 
pect of  spending  it  opened  up  dazzling  possibilities. 
There  were  so  many  things  that  he  wanted  that  it 
was  hard  to  decide  which  to  select. 

Among  other  things  Sam  wanted  a  fishing  pole. 
There  was  a  supply  at  a  variety  store  in  the  village. 
He  had  never  inquired  the  price,  because  he  had  no 
money.  Now  that  he  was  wealthy  he  determined 
to  inquire. 

So  he  went  into  the  store  and,  pointing  to  the 
coveted  article,  asked  the  price. 

"Seventy-five  cents,"  answered  the  old  man,  Gor- 
don Locke,  who  kept  the  store. 

"Seventy-five  cents,"  repeated  Sam,  thought- 
fully. 


66  BOB  BURTON 

This  would  only  leave  him  twenty-five  cents,  and 
there  were  so  many  other  things  he  wanted. 

"Was  you  calc'latin'  to  buy,  Sam?"  asked  Mr. 
Locke,  pushing  up  his  iron-bound  spectacles. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Sam,  slowly;  "I  didn't 
think  I'd  have  to  pay  so  much." 

"It's  cheap,  for  the  quality,"  said  the  store- 
keeper. "This  ain't  no  common  fishing  pole.  It 
comes  all  the  way  from  York." 

"Yes,  it  seems  a  nice  one,"  Sam  admitted. 

"Hev  you  got  the  money  about  you?"  asked  the 
old  man. 

"Yes,"  answered  Sam,  unguardedly. 

"Then  you'd  better  take  the  pole.  You  won't 
find  no  better  within  fifty  mile." 

"I'll  think  about  it,"  said  Sam. 

He  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  part  with  his 
precious  dollar  so  soon.  As  long  as  he  had  it,  he 
felt  like  a  man  of  property.  When  it  was  once 
changed,  he  would  once  more  be  a  poor  boy. 

In  spite  of  the  storekeeper's  persuasions,  he 
walked  out  with  his  money  intact,  leaving  the  cov- 
eted fishing  pole  behind. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  his  uncle,  who  never 
allowed  anything  to  pass  unnoticed,  saw  from  the 
window  Sam  come  out  of  the  store,  which  was 
nearly  opposite. 

"What  business  has  he  there,  I  wonder?"  he 
said  to  himself. 


BOB  BURTON  67 

Five  minutes  later  he  made  an  errand  to  visit  the 
store  himself. 

"Good  day,  Mr.  Wolverton,"  said  Gordon 
Locke,  deferentially. 

"Good  day,  Locke!  Didn't  I  see  my  nephew, 
Sam,  come  out  of  here  just  now?" 

"Like  as  not  you  did.    He  was  here." 

"What  business  had  he  here?" 

"He  was  looking  at  them  fishin'  rods." 

"He  was,  hey?"  said  Wolverton,  pricking  up  his 
ears. 

"Yes ;  he  reckoned  he'd  buy  one  soon." 

"What's  the  price?" 

"Seventy-five  cents." 

"He  reckoned  he'd  pay  seventy-five  cents  for  a 
fishin'  rod,"  said  Wolverton,  slowly.  "Did  he  show 
you  the  money?" 

"No;  but  he  said  he  had  it." 

"Oho,  he  had  the  money,"  repeated  Aaron  Wol- 
verton, shaking  his  head  ominously.  "Where'd  he 
get  it?    That's  what  I'd  like  to  know." 

"I  reckon  you  gave  it  to  him;  he's  your  nephew." 

"I  don't  pamper  him  in  any  such  way  as  that, 
So  he's  got  money.    I'll  have  to  look  into  that." 

Wolverton,  who  was  of  a  suspicious  disposition, 
was  led  to  think  that  Sam  had  stolen  the  money 
from  him.  He  could  think  of  no  other  way  in 
which  the  boy  could  get  possession  of  it. 

He  went  home,  and  sought  his  sister  Sally. 


68  BOB  BURTON 

"Sally,  where  is  Sam?" 

"I  don't  know."  Then,  noticing  the  frown  upon 
her  brother's  brow,  she  inquired,  "Is  anything  the 
matter?" 

"I  think  there  is.    Sam  has  money." 

"What  do  you  mean?  Where'd  he  get  it, 
Aaron?" 

"That's  what  I  want  to  find  out,"  and  he  told 
her  of  Sam's  visit  to  the  store. 

"Have  you  missed  any  money,  Aaron?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of.  You  haven't  left  any 
round?" 

"No." 

"It  stands  to  reason  the  boy  has  taken  money 
from  one  of  us.  Even  if  he  hasn't  whatever  he  has 
belongs  to  me  by  right,  as  I  am  takin'  care  of  him." 

"Half  of  it  ought  to  go  to  me,"  said  Sally,  who 
was  quite  as  fond  of  money  as  her  brother. 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  But  where's  the 
boy?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  may  have  gone  over  to  see 
the  Burtons.    He's  there  most  of  the  time." 

"I'll  foller  him." 

Aaron  Wolverton  went  into  the  shed,  and  came 
out  with  a  horsewhip.  He  did  not  keep  a  horse, 
but  still  he  kept  a  whip.  For  what  purpose  Sam 
could  have  told  if  he  had  been  asked. 

"If  the  boy's  become  a  thief,  I  want  to  know  it," 
said  Wolverton  to  himself. 


BOB  BURTON  69 

Sam  had  really  started  on  the  way  to  the  Bur- 
tons. His  uncle  struck  his  trail,  so  to  speak,  and 
followed  him.  He  caught  up  with  his  nephew  about 
half  a  mile  away.  Sam  had  thrown  himself  down 
on  the  ground  under  a  cottonwood  tree,  and  gave 
himself  up  to  pleasant  dreams  of  the  independence 
which  manhood  would  bring.  In  his  reverie  he  un- 
consciously spoke  aloud:  "When  I'm  a  man,  Uncle 
Aaron  won't  dare  to  boss  me  around  as  he  does 
now." 

The  old  man,  creeping  stealthily  near,  overheard 
the  words,  and  a  malicious  smile  lighted  up  his 
wrinkled  face. 

"Oho,  that's  what  he's  thinkin'  of  already,"  he 
muttered.    "What  more?" 

"I  wish  I  could  live  with  the  Burtons,"  proceed- 
ed the  unconscious  Sam.  "They  would  treat  a  boy 
decently." 

"So  I  don't  treat  him  decently,"  repeated  Wol- 
verton,  his  small  eyes  snapping. 

He  had  by  this  time  crawled  behind  the  trunk  of 
the  tree  under  which  Sam  was  reclining. 

"I  sometimes  think  I'd  like  to  run  away  and 
never  come  back,"  continued  Sam. 

"You  do,  hey?"  snarled  Wolverton,  as  he 
stepped  out  from  behind  the  tree. 

Sam  jumped  to  his  feet  in  dire  dismay,  and  gazed 
at  his  uncle  panic-stricken. 


70  BOB  BURTON 

"Did  you  just  come?"  he  stammered.  "I  didn't 
hear  you." 

"No,  I  reckon  not,"  laughed  his  uncle,  with  a 
queer  smile.  "So  you  want  to  get  quit  of  your  aunt 
and  me,  do  you?" 

"I  don't  reckon  to  live  with  you  always,"  faltered 
Sam. 

"No;  but  you  ain't  a-goin'  to  leave  us  just  yet. 
There's  a  little  matter  I've  got  to  inquire  into." 

Sam  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"What  is  it?" 

"What  did  you  go  into  Locke's  store  for?"  de- 
manded his  uncle,  searchingly. 

"I  just  went  in  to  look  round,"  answered  Sam, 
evasively. 

"You  went  to  look  at  a  fishing  pole,"  said  Aaron 
Wolverton,  sternly. 

"What  if  I  did?"  asked  Sam,  plucking  up  a  little 
courage. 

"Did  you  have  the  money  to  buy  it?" 

"Ye-es,"  answered  Sam,  panic-stricken. 

"How  much  money  have  you  got?" 

"A  dollar." 

"Which  you  stole  from  me!"  asserted  Wolver- 
ton, with  the  air  of  a  judge  about  to  sentence  a 
criminal  to  execution. 

"No,  I  didn't.    It  didn't  come  from  your  house." 

"Where  did  it  come  from?" 

"Mrs.  Burton  gave  it  to  me — for  my  birthday." 


BOB  BURTON  71 

"I  don't  believe  it.  It's  one  of  your  lies.  Give  it 
to  me  this  instant." 

Poor  Sam  became  desperate.  What!  was  he  to 
lose  the  only  money  of  any  account  which  he  ever 
possessed  ?  He  was  not  brave,  but  he  made  a  stand 
here. 

"You  have  no  right  to  it,"  he  said,  passionately. 
"It's  mine.    Mrs.  Burton  gave  it  to  me." 

"I  tell  you  it's  a  lie !  Even  if  she  had  done  so  I 
should  have  the  right,  as  your  uncle,  to  take  it  from 
you.    Give  it  to  me!" 

"I  won't!"  said  Sam,  desperately. 

"Won't,  hey?"  repeated  Wolverton,  grimly. 
"Well,  we'll  see  about  tha'." 

He  raised  the  horsewhip,  and  in  an  instant  Sam's 
legs — he  was  standing  now — felt  the  cruel  lash. 

"Won't,  hey?"  repeated  his  uncle.    "We'll  see." 

"Help!"  screamed  Sam.  "Will  no  one  help 
me?" 

"I  reckon  not,"  answered  his  uncle,  mockingly, 
and  he  raised  his  whip  once  more. 

But  before  the  lash  could  descend,  it  was  snatch- 
ed from  him,  and,  turning  angrily,  he  confronted 
Bob  Burton,  fierce  and  indignant,  and  saw  Clip 
standing  just  behind  him. 


7* 


BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  XI 

AN  ANGRY  CONFERENCE 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  you 
brute !"  exclaimed  Bob. 

"Do  you  want  me  to  thrash  you,  too?"  snarled 
Wolverton,  angrily. 

"You  can  try,  if  you  want  to,"  returned  Bob, 
contemptuously. 

"Sam,  what  was  he  going  to  whip  you  for?" 
asked  Bob,  turning  to  his  unfortunate  friend. 

"I'll  answer  that  question,"  said  Wolverton, 
"though  it's  no  concern  of  yours.  The  boy  has 
been  robbing  me." 

"What  have  you  to  say,  Sam?" 

"It's  not  true." 

"What  do  you  charge  him  with  taking,  Mr. 
Wolverton?" 

"A  dollar." 

"It's  the  one  your  mother  gave  me,  Bob." 

"To  be  sure !    I  saw  her  give  it  to  you  myself." 

"He  lies,  and  you  swear  to  it,"  said  Wolverton, 
with  a  sneer. 

"Mr.   Wolverton,   you   have  brought   a   false 


BOB  BURTON  73 

charge  against  your  nephew,  and  you  know  it.  If 
you  don't  care  to  take  his  word  or  mine,  you  can 
come  over  to  our  house  and  ask  my  mother  whether 
Sam's  story  is  true." 

"It  doesn't  matter  whether  it's  true  or  false," 
said  Wolverton,  doggedly.  "Sam  is  under  my 
charge,  and  I  have  a  right  to  any  money  he  comes 
by." 

"I  always  knew  you  were  mean,"  said  Bob,  con- 
temptuously, "but  this  is  ahead  of  anything  I  ever 
imagined.  Do  you  still  accuse  Sam  of  robbing 
you?" 

"I  don't  know  whether  he  did  or  not." 

"You  can  easily  satisfy  yourself  by  calling  on  my 
mother." 

"I  mean  to  call  on  your  mother,  but  it  won't  be 
on  this  business,"  said  Wolverton,  opening  his 
mouth  and  showing  the  yellow  fangs  which  served 
for  teeth. 

"You  are  at  liberty  to  call  on  any  business  er- 
rand," said  Bob. 

"Indeed,  you  are  very  kind,  remarkably  kind, 
considering  that  the  ranch  is  as  much  mine  as  your 
mother's." 

"How  do  you  make  that  out?" 

"I  have  a  mortgage  on  it  for  half  its  value." 

"I  deny  it.  The  ranch  is  worth  much  more  than 
six  thousand  dollars.  Besides,  the  time  has  not  yet 
come  when  you  have  the  right  to  foreclose." 


74  BOB  BURTON 

"There  you  are  wrong,  young  man!  As  the  in- 
terest has  not  been  promptly  paid,  I  can  foreclose 
at  any  time." 

"You  will  have  to  see  my  mother  about  that," 
said  Bob,  carefully  concealing  the  fact  that  the  re- 
ceipt had  been  recovered. 

"I  thought  you  would  change  your  tune,"  said 
Wolverton,  judging  from  Bob's  calmer  tone  that 
he  was  getting  alarmed. 

Bob  smiled,  for  he  felt  that  he  had  the  advan- 
tage, and  foresaw  Wolverton's  discomfiture  when 
the  receipt  was  shown  him. 

"I  am  not  quite  so  excited  as  I  was,"  he  ad- 
mitted. "When  I  saw  you  with  the  whip  uplifted 
I  was  ready  for  anything." 

"Give  me  back  the  whip!"  said  Wolverton, 
menacingly. 

"Will  you  promise  not  to  use  it  on  Sam?" 

"I'll  promise  nothing,  you  young  whipper- 
snapper  !  What  business  have  you  to  interfere  be- 
tween me  and  my  nephew  ?" 

"The  right  of  ordinary  humanity." 

"Give  me  the  whip." 

"Then  make  me  the  promise." 

"I  won't." 

"Then  I  propose  to  keep  it." 

"I  will  have  you  arrested  for  theft." 

"Do  so.  I  will  explain  matters  to  Judge 
Turner." 


BOB  BURTON  75 

Judge  Turner,  the  magistrate  before  whom  such 
cases  came,  heartily  despised  and  hated  Aaron  Wol- 
verton,  as  the  latter  knew  full  well.  He  would  cer- 
tainly dismiss  any  charge  brought  against  Bob  by 
such  a  man.  This  consideration  naturally  influ- 
enced him. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  though  with  an  ill  grace, 
"if  your  mother  gave  Sam  the  money,  I  retract  the 
charge  of  theft.  Nevertheless,  as  his  guardian,  I 
demand  that  the  dollar  be  given  to  me." 

"Give  it  to  me  to  keep  for  you,  Sam,"  said  Bob. 

Sam  gladly  took  it  from  his  pocket,  and  threw  it 
toward  Bob,  who  dexterously  caught  it. 

"Now,  Mr.  Wolverton,"  said  Bob,  quietly,  "you 
will  have  to  demand  the  money  from  me;  Sam 
hasn't  got  it." 

"You'll  have  to  pay  for  your  impudence,  Robert 
Burton !"  said  Wolverton,  wrathfully.  "You  for- 
get that  you  are  all  in  my  power." 

"You  may  find  yourself  mistaken,  Mr.  Wolver- 
ton," said  Bob.  "At  any  rate,  I  don't  think  I  shall 
lose  any  sleep  on  that  score." 

"You  can  tell  your  mother  I  shall  call  this  even- 
ing," continued  Wolverton.  "I  expect  her  to  be 
ready  with  the  interest,  which  is  long  overdue." 

"I  will  give  her  your  message,  Mr.  Wolverton. 
Now,  Clip,  let  us  go  on.  Mr.  Wolverton  will  ex- 
cuse us,  I  know,  when  I  tell  him  that  we  have  an 
errand  in  the  village." 


76  BOB  BURTON 

uYah,  yah!"  laughed  Clip,  gleefully;  not  that 
there  was  anything  particular  to  laugh  at,  but  be- 
cause it  took  very  little  to  excite  Clip's  risibilities. 

Mr.  Wolverton  turned  upon  Clip  with  a  frown. 
He  had  not  forgotten  the  trick  Clip  played  upon 
him  when  he  was  upset  in  the  river,  and  he  would 
have  liked  nothing  better  than  to  flog  him  till  he 
roared  for  mercy. 

"What  is  that  black  ape  grinning  about?"  he 
demanded. 

Clip  ought  to  have  felt  insulted,  but  he  was  only 
amused. 

"Yah,  yah!"  he  laughed  again. 

Aaron  Wolverton  made  a  dash  at  him  with  his 
recovered  whip,  but  Clip  nimbly  jumped  to  one  side 
and  laughed  again. 

"Didn't  do  it  dat  time,"  Massa  Wolverton," 
said  Clip,  showing  his  teeth. 

"I'll  get  even  with  you  yet,  you  black  monkey!" 

If  Clip  had  been  alone,  Wolverton  would  have 
proceeded  then  and  there  to  carry  out  his  threat. 
But  he  had  a  wholesome  respect  for  Bob,  whose 
physical  strength  and  prowess  he  well  knew.  It 
made  him  angry  whenever  he  thought  of  this  boy, 
who  seemed  born  to  be  a  thorn  in  his  side.  He 
was  stronger  than  Wolverton,  though  the  land 
agent  was  a  man  grown,  and  it  was  humiliating  to 
Wolverton  to  be  obliged  to  admit  this  fact. 

But  he  had  one  consolation  in  the  mortgage  he 


BOB  BURTON  77 

held  upon  the  Burton  Ranch.  Here  the  law  was  on 
his  side,  and  he  saw  his  way  clear  to  annoy  and 
injure  Bob  and  his  family,  without  running  any  risk 
himself.  As  for  the  chance  of  the  mortgage  ever 
being  paid  off,  that  he  thought  extremely  small.  If 
Richard  Burton  were  still  alive,  he  would  have  been 
right,  but  Bob,  young  as  he  was,  bade  fair  to  be  a 
better  manager  than  his  father.  He  was  not  so 
sanguine,  or,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  so  reckless 
in  his  expenditures.  Besides,  he  knew,  though  his 
father  was  ignorant  of  it,  that  Wolverton,  for  some 
reason  which  he  could  not  penetrate,  was  a  bitter 
enemy  of  the  family,  and  that  his  forbearance  could 
not  be  depended  upon. 

When  Bob  and  Clip  had  left  the  scene  Aaron 
Wolverton  turned  to  Sam,  and  scowled  at  his  un- 
fortunate nephew,  in  a  way  which  was  by  no  means 
pleasant  or  reassuring. 

"I've  a  good  mind  to  flog  you  for  all  the  trouble 
you've  brought  upon  me,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  see  what  I've  done,  uncle." 

"You  don't,  hey?  Haven't  you  sided  with  that 
upstart,  the  Burton  boy?" 

Sam  was  judiciously  silent,  for  he  saw  his  uncle 
was  very  much  irritated. 

"Why  did  you  give  that  dollar  to  him?" 

"He  told  me  to." 

"Suppose  he  did;  is  he  your  guardian  or  am  I?" 

"You  are,  Uncle  Aaron." 


78  BOB  BURTON 

"I'm  glad  you  are  willing  to  admit  it.  Then  why- 
did  you  give  him  the  dollar?" 

"Because  his  mother  gave  it  to  me.  If  you  had 
given  it  to  me,  I  wouldn't  have  done  it." 

"You'll  have  to  wait  a  good  while  before  I  give 
you  a  dollar." 

Sam  was  of  the  same  opinion  himself,  but  did  not 
think  it  wise  to  say  so. 

"You  deserve  to  be  punished  for  what  you  have 
done,"  said  his  uncle,  severely. 

"I  wish  I  were  as  strong  and  brave  as  Bob," 
thought  Sam.  "I  don't  see  how  he  dares  to  stand 
up  before  Uncle  Aaron  and  defy  him.  He  makes 
me  tremble." 

The  truth  was,  Sam  was  not  made  of  heroic 
mold.  He  was  a  timid  boy  and  was  easily  over- 
awed. He  lacked  entirely  the  qualities  that  made 
Bob  so  bold  and  resolute.  He  could  admire  his 
friend,  but  he  could  not  imitate  him. 

"Now,  come  home,"  said  Wolverton,  shortly. 

Sam  followed  his  uncle  meekly. 

When  they  reached  home  Sam  was  set  to  work. 
At  twelve  o'clock  the  bell  rang  for  dinner.  Sam 
dropped  his  ax — he  had  been  splitting  wood — and 
entered  the  kitchen,  where  the  frugal  meal  was 
spread.  His  uncle  was  already  sitting  in  his  place, 
and  Sam  prepared  to  sit  down  in  his  usual  chair. 

"Samuel,"  said  his  uncle,  "you  have  disobeyed 
me.    You  do  not  deserve  any  dinner." 


BOB  BURTON  79 

Sam's  countenance  fell,  for  he  was  very  hungry. 

"I  am  very  hungry,"  he  faltered. 

"You  should  have  thought  of  that  when  you  dis- 
obeyed me  and  gave  your  money  to  the  Burton  boy. 
This  is  intended  as  a  salutary  lesson,  Samuel,  to 
cure  you  of  your  stubbornness  and  disobedience." 

"You  are  quite  right,  Aaron,"  said  Miss  Sally, 
in  her  deep  voice.     "Samuel  needs  chastening." 

Poor  Sam  slunk  out  of  the  door  in  a  state  of  de- 
pression. Not  being  ordered  to  return  to  his  work, 
he  went  out  into  the  street,  where  he  met  Bob  and 
Clip,  and  to  them  he  told  his  tale  of  woe. 

"Your  uncle  is  as  mean  as  they  make  'em,"  said 
Bob.  "Here,  go  into  the  baker's  and  buy  some 
doughnuts  and  pie." 

He  handed  Sam  a  quarter,  and  the  hungry  boy 
followed  his  advice,  faring  quite  as  well  as  he 
would  have  done  at  his  uncle's  table.  Rather  to 
Mr.  Wolverton's  surprise,  he  worked  all  the  after- 
noon without  showing  signs  of  hunger,  and  that 
gentleman  began  to  consider  whether,  after  all, 
two  meals  a  day  were  not  sufficient  for  him. 


8o  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  XII 

WOLVERTON' S  WATERLOO 

Though  the  receipt  was  lost,  Wolverton  could 
not  give  up  his  plan  of  extorting  the  interest  from 
Mrs.  Burton  a  second  time.  It  might  have  been 
supposed  that  he  would  have  some  qualms  of  con- 
science about  robbing  the  widow  and  the  fatherless, 
but  Mr.  Wolverton's  conscience,  if  he  had  any, 
gave  him  very  little  trouble.  He  would  have 
thought  himself  a  fool  to  give  up  one  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  if  there  was  the  slightest  chance  of 
securing  them. 

Toward  evening  of  the  day  on  which  Bob  had 
interfered  with  him,  he  took  his  hat  and  cane,  and 
set  out  for  Burton's  Ranch. 

It  so  happened  that  Bob  answered  the  bell.  He 
had  been  sitting  with  his  mother,  chatting  about 
their  future  plans. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Wolverton,"  said  Bob,  who 
felt  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  be  polite  to  a  guest, 
even  though  he  disliked  him. 


BOB  BURTON  81 

"  'Evening,"  returned  Wolverton,  curtly.  "Is 
your  mother  at  home?" 

"Yes,  sir.    Will  you  come  in  ?" 

Wolverton  had  not  the  good  manners  to 
acknowledge  the  invitation  with  thanks,  but  strode 
into  the  sitting-room,  following  Bob. 

The  widow  anticipated  his  visit,  having  been  in- 
formed by  Bob  that  he  had  announced  his  intention 
of  coming. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Wolverton.  Take  a  seat," 
she  said,  pointing  to  a  chair  a  few  feet  from  her 
own.    "Robert,  take  Mr.  Wolverton's  hat." 

Wolverton  looked  at  the  widow  with  a  hungry 
gaze,  for  she  was  the  only  woman  he  had  ever 
loved. 

"If  she  would  only  marry  me,  all  her  troubles 
would  be  over,"  he  said  to  himself.  "She's  a  fool 
to  refuse." 

We,  who  have  some  idea  of  Mr.  Wolverton's 
character  and  disposition,  are  more  likely  to  con- 
clude that  marriage  with  such  a  man  would  be  only 
the  beginning  of  trouble. 

"I've  come  on  business,  Mrs.  Burton,"  said  the 
visitor,  in  an  aggressive  tone. 

"State  it,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Wolverton,"  the 
widow  answered,  calmly. 

"Hadn't  you  better  send  your  son  out  of  the 
room?    We'd  better  discuss  this  matter  alone." 

"I  have  no  secrets  from  Robert,"  said  the  widow. 


82  BOB  BURTON 

"Oh,  well,  just  as  you  please;  I  don't  care  to 
have  him  interfere  in  what  doesn't  concern  him." 

"Any  business  with  my  mother  does  concern 
me,"  said  Bob;  "but  I  will  try  not  to  give  you  any 
trouble." 

"The  business  is  about  that  interest,"  Wolverton 
began,  abruptly. 

"What  interest?" 

"You  must  know  what  I  mean — the  interest  on 
the  mortgage." 

"My  husband  paid  it  on  the  day  of  his  death." 

"It's  easy  enough  to  say  that,"  sneered  Wolver- 
ton, "but  saying  it  isn't  proving  it,  as  you  must  have 
the  good  sense  to  know." 

"When  my  husband  left  me  on  that  fatal  morn- 
ing, he  told  me  that  he  was  going  to  your  office  to 
pay  the  interest.  I  know  he  had  the  money  with 
him,  for  he  had  laid  down  the  wallet,  and  I  saw 
the  roll  of  bills." 

"Why  didn't  he  pay  it,  then?  That's  what  I'd 
like  to  know." 

"Didn't  he  pay  it  to  you,  Mr.  Wolverton?" 
asked  Mrs.  Burton,  with  a  searching  glance. 
"Carry  back  your  memory  to  that  day,  and  answer 
me  that  question." 

Mr.  Wolverton  showed  himself  a  little  restless 
under  this  interrogatory,  but  he  assumed  an  air  of 
indignation. 

"What  do  you  mean,  widder?"  he  demanded, 


BOB  BURTON  83 

bringing  down  his  cane  with  emphasis  upon  the 
floor.    "Do  you  doubt  my  word?" 

"I  think  you  may  be  mistaken,  Mr.  Wolverton," 
said  Mrs.  Burton,  composedly. 

"Who  has  been  putting  this  into  your  head, 
widder?    Is  it  that  boy  of  yours?" 

Bob  answered  for  himself: 

"I  don't  mind  saying  that  I  did  tell  mother  that 
I  thought  the  money  had  been  paid." 

"Humph  !  you  think  yourself  mighty  smart,  Bob 
Burton,"  snarled  Wolverton.  "Nat'rally  you'd 
like  to  get  rid  of  paying  the  interest,  if  you  could ; 
but  you've  got  a  business  man  to  deal  with,  not  a 
fool." 

"You  are  no  fool  where  money  is  concerned, 
there's  no  doubt  about  that.  But  I  want  to  ask  you 
one  thing,  if  my  father  didn't  pay  you  the  money 
which  mother  can  testify  to  his  carrying  with  him 
on  the  morning  of  his  death,  what  became  of  it?" 

"How  should  I  know  ?  Did  you  search  his  wallet 
when  he  was  brought  home?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  didn't  find  the  money?" 

"No." 

"So  you  conclude  that  he  paid  it  to  me.  Let  me 
tell  you,  young  man,  that  doesn't  follow.  He  may 
have  been  robbed  when  he  was  lying  on  the  ground 
insensible." 


84  BOB  BURTON 

"I  think  very  likely  he  was,"  returned  Bob, 
quietly. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  demanded  Wol- 
verton,  uneasily.     "Who  could  have  robbed  him?" 

"Possibly  some  one  that  we  wouldn't  be  likely  to 
suspect." 

"What  does  he  mean?  Can  he  possibly  suspect 
me?"  thought  Wolverton,  fixing  his  eyes  on  Bob's 
face.  "But  no!  I  certainly  didn't  take  any  money 
from  him." 

"You  may  be  right,"  he  said  aloud;  "but  that 
hasn't  anything  to  do  with  my  claim  for  interest. 
Whether  your  father  was  robbed  of  the  money,  or 
spent  it,  is  all  one  to  me.  It  wasn't  paid  to  me,  I 
can  certify." 

"Would  you  be  willing  to  swear  that  the  money 
was  not  paid  to  you  that  day,  Mr.  Wolverton?" 

"Do  you  mean  to  insult  me  ?  Haven't  I  told  you 
it  was  not  paid?" 

"Do  you  expect  me  to  pay  it  to  you,  then  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Burton. 

"Widder,  I  am  surprised  you  should  ask  such  a 
foolish  question.  It  lies  in  a  nutshell.  I'm  entitled 
to  interest  on  the  money  I  let  your  husband  have  on 
mortgage.    You  admit  that?" 

"Yes." 

"I'm  glad  you  admit  that.  As  your  husband 
didn't  pay,  I  look  to  you  for  it.  I  can  say  no  more." 

Mrs.  Burton  took  a  pocketbook  from  a  pocket  in 


BOB  BURTON  85 

her  dress,  and  handed  it  to  Robert.  Bob  opened  it, 
and  drew  therefrom  a  folded  paper. 

"Mr.  Wolverton,"  he  said,  quietly,  "I  hold  in 
my  hand  a  receipt  signed  by  yourself  for  the  inter- 
est— one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars — dated  the  very 
day  that  my  poor  father  died.  What  have  you  to 
say  to  it?" 

Mr.  Wolverton  sprang  to  his  feet,  pale  and 
panic-stricken. 

"Where  did  you  get  that  paper?"  he  stammered, 
hoarsely. 


86  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WHAT  BOB  FOUND  IN  THE  CREEK 

"When  my  poor  husband  left  your  office  this 
receipt  was  in  his  possession,"  answered  Mrs. 
Burton. 

"I  deny  it,"  exclaimed  Aaron  Wolverton,  in  a 
tone  of  excitement. 

"Where  else  should  it  be?"  inquired  the  widow, 
eying  him  fixedly. 

"I  don't  know.    How  should  I  ?" 

"So  you  deny  that  the  signature  is  yours,  Mr. 
Wolverton?" 

"Let  me  see  it." 

"I  would  rather  not,"  said  Bob,  drawing  back 
the  receipt  from  Wolverton's  extended  hand. 

"That's  enough!"  said  Wolverton,  quickly. 
"You  are  afraid  to  show  it.  I  denounce  it  as  a  base 
forgery." 

"That  will  do  no  good,"  said  the  boy,  unterri- 
fied.  "I  have  shown  the  receipt  to  Mr.  Dornton, 
and  he  pronounces  the  signature  genuine." 


BOB  BURTON  87 

"What  made  you  show  it  to  him?"  asked  Wol- 
verton,  discomfited. 

"Because  I  thought  it  likely,  after  your  demand- 
ing the  interest  the  second  time,  that  you  would 
deny  it." 

"Probably  I  know  my  own  signature  better  than 
Mr.  Dornton  can." 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  will  recognize  it,"  and 
Bob,  unfolding  the  paper,  held  it  in  such  a  manner 
that  Wolverton  could  read  it. 

"It  may  be  my  signature;  it  looks  like  it,"  said 
Wolverton,  quickly  deciding  upon  a  new  evasion, 
"but  it  was  never  delivered  to  your  father." 

"How,  then,  do  you  account  for  its  being  writ- 
ten?" asked  Mrs.  Burton,  in  natural  surprise. 

"I  made  it  out  on  the  day  your  husband  died," 
Wolverton  answered,  glibly,  "anticipating  that  he 
would  pay  the  money.  He  did  not  do  it,  and  so  the 
receipt  remained  in  my  desk." 

Bob  and  his  mother  regarded  each  other  in  sur- 
prise. They  were  not  prepared  for  such  a  bare- 
faced falsehood. 

"Perhaps  you  will  account  for  its  not  being  in 
your  desk  now,"  said  Bob. 

"I  can  do  so,  readily,"  returned  Wolverton, 
maliciously.  "Somebody  must  have  stolen  it  from 
my  desk." 

"I  think  you  will  find  it  hard  to  prove  this,  Mr. 
Wolverton." 


88  BOB  BURTON 

"It  is  true,  and  I  don't  propose  to  lose  my  money 
on  account  of  a  stolen  receipt.  You  will  find  that 
you  can't  so  easily  circumvent  Aaron  Wolverton." 

"You  are  quite  welcome  to  adopt  this  line  of  de- 
fense, Mr.  Wolverton,  if  you  think  best.  You 
ought  to  know  whether  the  public  will  believe  such 
an  improbable  tale." 

"If  you  had  the  receipt  why  didn't  you  show  it  to 
me  before?"  Wolverton  asked,  in  a  triumphant 
tone.  "I  came  here  soon  after  your  father's  death, 
and  asked  for  my  interest.  Your  mother  admitted, 
then,  that  she  had  no  receipt." 

"We  had  not  found  it  then." 

"Where,  and  when,  did  you  find  it?" 

"I  do  not  propose  to  tell." 

Wolverton  shook  his  head,  satirically. 

"And  a  very  good  reason  you  have,  I  make  no 
doubt." 

"Suppose  I  tell  you  my  theory,  Mr.  Wolverton." 

"I  wish  you  would,"  and  Wolverton  leaned  back 
in  his  chair  and  gazed  defiantly  at  the  boy  he  so 
much  hated. 

"My  father  paid  you  the  interest,  and  took  a  re- 
ceipt. He  had  it  on  his  person  when  he  met  with 
his  death.  When  he  was  lying  outstretched  in 
death" — here  Bob's  eyes  moistened — "some  one 
came  up,  and,  bending  over  him,  took  the  receipt 
from  his  pocket." 


BOB  BURTON  89 

Mr.  Woiverton's  face  grew  pale  as  Bob  pro- 
ceeded. 

"A  very  pretty  romance !"  he  sneered,  recovering 
himself  after  an  instant. 

"It  is  something  more  than  romance,"  Bob  pro- 
ceeded slowly  and  gravely.  "It  is  true;  the  man 
who  was  guilty  of  this  mean  theft  from  a  man  made 
helpless  by  death  is  known.  He  was  seen  at  this 
contemptible  work." 

"It  is  a  lie!"  cried  Wolverton,  hoarsely,  his  face 
the  color  of  chalk. 

"It  is  a  solemn  truth." 

"Who  saw  him?" 

"I  don't  propose  to  tell — yet,  if  necessary,  it  will 
be  told  in  a  court  of  justice." 

Wolverton  saw  that  he  was  found  out,  but  he 
could  not  afford  to  acknowledge.  His  best  way  of 
getting  off  was  to  fly  into  a  rage,  and  this  was  easy 
for  him. 

"I  denounce  this  as  a  base  conspiracy,"  he  said, 
rising  as  he  spoke.  "That  receipt  was  stolen  from 
my  desk." 

"Then  we  do  not  need  to  inquire  who  took  it 
from  the  vest  pocket  of  my  poor  father." 

"Robert  Burton,  I  will  get  even  with  you  for  this 
insult,"  said  Wolverton,  shaking  his  fist  at  the 
manly  boy.     "You  and  your  mother." 

"Leave  out  my  mother's  name,"  said  Bob, 
sternly. 


90  BOB  BURTON 

"I  will;  I  don't  think  she  would  be  capable  of 
such  meanness.  You,  then,  are  engaged  in  a  plot 
to  rob  me  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  To  fur- 
ther this  wicked  scheme,  you  or  your  agent  have 
stolen  this  receipt  from  my  desk.  I  can  have  you 
arrested  for  burglary.  It  is  no  more  nor  less  than 
that." 

"You  can  do  so  if  you  like,  Mr.  Wolverton.  In 
that  case  the  public  shall  know  that  you  stole  the 
receipt  from  my  poor  father  after  his  death.  I  can 
produce  an  eye-witness." 

Wolverton  saw  that  he  was  in  a  trap.  Such  a 
disclosure  would  injure  him  infinitely  in  the  opinion 
of  his  neighbors,  for  it  would  be  believed.  There 
was  no  help  for  it.  He  must  lose  the  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  upon  which,  though  he  had  no  claim  to 
it,  he  had  so  confidently  reckoned. 

"You  will  hear  from  me!"  he  said,  savagely,  as 
he  jammed  his  hat  down  upon  his  head,  and  hastily 
left  the  apartment.  "Aaron  Wolverton  is  not  the 
man  to  give  in  to  fraud." 

Neither  Bob  nor  his  mother  answered  him,  but 
Mrs.  Burton  asked  anxiously,  after  his  departure: 

"Do  you  think  he  will  do  anything,  Bob?" 

"No,  mother;  he  sees  that  he  is  in  a  trap,  and 
will  think  it  wisest  to  let  the  matter  drop." 

This,  in  fact,  turned  out  to  be  the  case.  Morti- 
fying as  it  was  to  give  in,  Wolverton  did  not  dare 
to  act  otherwise.    He  would  have  given  something 


BOB  BURTON  91 

handsome,  mean  though  he  was,  if  he  could  have 
found  out,  first,  who  saw  him  rob  the  dead  man, 
and  next,  who  extracted  the  stolen  receipt  from  his 
desk.  He  was  inclined  to  guess  that  it  was  Bob  in 
both  cases.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that  Clip  was 
the  eye-witness  whose  testimony  could  brand  him 
with  this  contemptible  crime.  Nor  did  he  think  of 
Sam  in  connection  with  his  own  loss  of  the  receipt. 
He  knew  Sam's  timidity,  and  did  not  believe  the 
boy  would  have  dared  to  do  such  a  thing. 

All  the  next  day,  in  consequence  of  his  disap- 
pointment, Mr.  Wolverton  was  unusually  cross  and 
irritable.  He  even  snapped  at  his  sister,  who  re- 
plied, with  spirit : 

"Look  here,  Aaron,  you  needn't  snap  at  me,  for 
I  won't  stand  it." 

"How  will  you  help  it?"  he  sneered. 

"By  leaving  your  house,  and  letting  you  get  an- 
other housekeeper.  I  can  earn  my  own  living  with- 
out working  any  harder  than  I  do  here,  and  a  better 
living,  too.  While  I  stay  here,  you've  got  to  treat 
me  decently." 

Wolverton  began  to  see  that  he  had  made  a  mis- 
take. Any  other  housekeeper  would  cost  him  more, 
and  he  could  find  none  that  would  be  so  economical. 

"I  don't  mean  anything,  Sally,"  he  said;  "but 
I'm  worried." 

"What  worries  you?" 

"A  heavy  loss." 


92  BOB  BURTON 

"How  much?" 

"A  hundred  and  fifty  dollars." 

"How  is  that?" 

"I  have  lost  a  receipt,  but  I  can't  explain  how. 
A  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  is  a  great  deal  of 
money,  Sally." 

"I  should  say  it  was.  Why  can't  you  tell  me 
about  it?" 

"Perhaps  I  will  some  time." 

About  two  months  later,  while  Bob  was  superin- 
tending the  harvesting  of  the  wheat — the  staple 
crop  of  the  Burton  Ranch — Clip  came  running  up 
to  him  in  visible  excitement. 

"Oh,  Massa  Bob,"  he  exclaimed,  "there  is  a 
ferryboat  coming  down  the  creek,  with  nobody  on 
it,  and  it's  done  got  stuck  ag'inst  a  snag.  Come, 
quick,  and  we  can  take  it  for  our  own.  Findings 
is  keepings." 

Bob  lost  no  time  in  following  Clip's  suggestion. 
He  hurried  to  the  creek,  and  there,  a  few  rods  from 
shore,  he  discovered  the  boat  stranded  in  the  mud, 
for  it  was  low  tide. 


BOB  BURTON  93 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  BOAT  AND  ITS  OWNER 

The  boat  was  shaped  somewhat  like  the  popular 
representations  of  Noah's  Ark.  It  was  probably 
ninety  feet  in  length  by  thirty-eight  feet  in  width, 
and  was  roofed.  Bob  recognized  it  at  once  as  a 
ferryboat  of  the  style  used  at  different  points  on  the 
river,  to  convey  passengers  and  teams  across  the 
river.  It  was  a  double-ender,  like  the  much  larger 
ferryboats  that  are  used  on  the  East  River,  between 
New  York  and  Brooklyn. 

The  creek  on  which  the  Burton  Ranch  was  lo- 
cated was  really  large  enough  for  a  river,  and  Bob 
concluded  that  this  boat  had  been  used  at  a  point 
higher  up. 

"I  wish  I  owned  that  boat,  Clip,"  said  Bob. 

"What  would  you  do  with  it,  Massa  Bob?" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'd  do,  Clip;  I'd  go  down  to 
St.  Louis  on  it." 

"Will  you  take  me  with  you,  Massa  Bob  ?"  asked 
Clip,  eagerly. 

"I  will,  if  I  go,  Clip." 


94  BOB  BURTON 

"Golly,  won't  that  be  fine!"  said  the  delighted 
Clip.    "How  long  will  you  stay,  Massa  Bob?" 

Clip  supposed  Bob  intended  a  pleasure  trip,  for 
in  his  eyes  pleasure  was  the  chief  end  of  living. 
But  Bob  was  more  practical  and  business-like.  He 
had  an  idea  which  seemed  to  him  a  good  one, 
though  as  yet  he  had  mentioned  it  to  no  one. 

"Get  out  the  boat,  Clip,"  he  said,  "and  we'll  go 
aboard.  I  want  to  see  if  the  boat  will  be  large 
enough  for  my  purpose." 

Clip  laughed  in  amusement. 

"You  must  think  you'self  mighty  big,  Massa 
Bob,"  he  said,  "if  you  think  there  isn't  room  on 
that  boat  for  you  and  me." 

"It  would  certainly  be  large  enough  for  two  pas- 
sengers like  ourselves,  Clip,"  answered  Bob,  smil- 
ing; "for  that  matter  our  rowboat  is  large  enough 
for  two  boys,  but  if  I  go  I  shall  carry  a  load  with 
me." 

Clip  was  still  in  the  dark,  but  he  was  busying 
himself  in  unloosing  the  rowboat,  according  to 
Bob's  bidding.  The  two  boys  jumped  in,  and  a  few 
strokes  of  the  oars  carried  them  to  the  ferryboat. 
Fastening  the  flat-bottomed  boat,  the  two  boys 
clambered  on  deck. 

Bob  found  the  boat  in  good  condition.  It  had 
occurred  to  him  that  it  had  been  deserted  as  old  and 
past  service,  and  allowed  to  drift  down  the  creek, 
but  an  examination  showed  that  in  this  conjecture 


BOB  BURTON  95 

he  was  mistaken.  It  was  sufficiently  good  to  serve 
for  years  yet.  This  discovery  was  gratifying  in  one 
way,  but  in  another  it  was  a  disappointment.  As  a 
boat  of  little  value,  Bob  could  have  taken  possession 
of  it,  fairly  confident  that  no  one  would  interfere 
with  his  claim,  but  in  its  present  condition  it  was 
hardly  likely  to  be  without  an  owner,  who  would 
appear  sooner  or  later  and  put  in  his  claim  to  it. 

"It  seems  to  be  a  pretty  good  boat,"  said  Bob. 

"Dat's  so,  Massa  Bob." 

"It  must  have  slipped  its  moorings  and  drifted 
down  the  creek  during  the  night.  I  wish  I  knew 
who  owned  it." 

"You  an'  me  own  it,  Massa  Bob.  Finding  is 
keeping." 

"I  am  afraid  it  won't  be  so  in  the  present  case. 
Probably  the  owner  will  appear  before  long." 

"Can't  we  get  off  down  de  river  afore  he  comes, 
Massa  Bob?" 

"That  wouldn't  be  honest,  Clip." 

Clip  scratched  his  head  in  perplexity.  He  was 
not  troubled  with  conscientious  scruples,  and  was 
not  as  clear  about  the  rights  of  property  as  his 
young  patron.  He  was  accustomed,  however,  to 
accept  whatever  Bob  said  as  correct  and  final.  In 
fact,  he  was  content  to  let  Bob  do  his  thinking  for 
him. 

"What  was  you  goin'  to  take  down  the  ribber,. 
Massa  Bob?"  he  asked. 


96  BOB  BURTON 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  was  thinking  of,  Clip.  You 
know  we  are  gathering  our  crop  of  grain,  and  of 
course  it  must  be  sold.  Now,  traders  ask  a  large 
commission  for  taking  the  wheat  to  market,  and 
this  would  be  a  heavy  tax.  If  I  could  load  it  on 
board  this  boat,  and  take  it  down  myself,  I  should 
save  all  that,  and  I  could  sell  it  myself  in  St.  Louis." 

"Can  I  go,  too?"  asked  Clip,  anxiously. 

"You  shall  go  if  I  do,"  answered  Bob. 

"When  will  you  know?"  asked  Clip,  eagerly. 

"When  I  find  out  whether  I  can  use  the  boat.  I 
had  thought  of  building  a  raft,  but  that  wouldn't 
do.  No  raft  that  I  could  build  would  carry  our 
crop  to  St.  Louis.  This  boat  will  be  just  the  thing. 
I  think  it  must  have  been  used  for  that  purpose 
before.  See  those  large  bins  on  each  side.  Each 
would  contain  from  fifty  to  a  hundred  bushels  of 
wheat.  I  only  wish  I  knew  the  owner.  Even  if  I 
couldn't  buy  the  boat,  I  might  make  a  bargain  to 
hire  it." 

Bob  had  hardly  finished  his  sentence  when  he 
heard  a  voice  hailing  him  from  the  bank. 

Going  to  the  end  of  the  boat,  he  looked  toward 
the  shore,  and  saw  a  tall,  angular  figure,  who  seem- 
ed from  his  dress  and  appearance  to  be  a  Western 
Yankee.  His  figure  was  tall  and  angular,  his  face 
of  the  kind  usually  described  as  hatchet  face,  with  a 
long,  thin  nose,  and  his  head  was  surmounted  by  a 


BOB  BURTON  97 

flapping  sombrero,  soft,  broad-brimmed  and  shape- 
less. 

"Boat,  ahoy!"  called  the  stranger. 

"Did  you  wish  to  speak  to  us?"  asked  Bob, 
politely. 

"I  reckon  I  do,"  answered  the  stranger.  "I  want 
you  to  take  me  aboard  that  boat." 

"Is  the  boat  yours?"  asked  Bob. 

"It  doesn't  belong  to  anybody  else,"  was  the 
reply. 

"Untie  the  boat,  Clip.  We'll  go  back !"  ordered 
Bob. 

The  two  boys  dropped  into  the  rowboat,  and 
soon  touched  the  bank. 

"If  you  will  get  in  we'll  row  you  over,"  said  Bob. 
"When  did  you  lose  the  boat?" 

"It  drifted  down  last  night,"  answered  the  new 
acquaintance.  "I've  been  usin'  it  as  a  ferryboat 
about  twenty  miles  up  the  creek.  Last  night  I 
thought  it  was  tied  securely,  but  this  morning  it 
was  gone." 

"I  don't  see  how  it  could  have  broken  away." 

"Like  as  not  some  mischievous  boy  cut  the 
cable,"  was  the  answer.  "Anyway,  here  it  is,  and 
here  am  I,  Ichabod  Slocum,  the  owner." 

"Then  the  boat  and  its  owner  are  once  more 
united." 

"Yes,  but  that  don't  take  the  boat  back  to  where 
it  belongs.     It's  drifted  down  here,  easy  enough; 


9 8  BOB  BURTON 

mebbe  one  of  you  boys  will  tell  me  how  it's  goin'  to 
drift  back." 

"There  may  be  some  difficulty  about  that,"  an- 
swered Bob,  with  a  smile.  "How  long  have  you 
owned  the  boat?" 

"About  two  years.  I've  been  usin'  her  as  a  ferry- 
boat between  Transfer  City  and  Romeo,  and  I've 
made  a  pretty  fair  livin'  at  it." 

Bob  was  familiar  with  the  names  of  these  towns, 
though  he  had  never  been  so  far  up  the  creek. 

"I'm  afraid  you'll  have  trouble  in  getting  the 
boat  back,"  he  said.  "It  will  make  quite  an  inter- 
ruption in  your  business." 

"I  don't  know  as  I  keer  so  much  about  that," 
said  Ichabod  Slocum,  thoughtfully.  "I've  been 
thinkin'  for  some  time  about  packin'  up  and  goin' 
further  west.  I've  got  a  cousin  in  Oregon,  and  I 
reckon  I  might  like  to  go  out  there  for  a  year  or 
two." 

"Then,  perhaps  you  might  like  to  dispose  of  the 
boat,  Mr.  Slocum,"  said  Bob,  eagerly. 

"Well,  I  might,"  said  Ichabod  Slocum,  cautious- 
ly. "Do  you  know  of  anybody  around  here  that 
wants  a  boat?" 

"I  might  like  it  myself,"  was  Bob's  reply. 

"What  on  airth  does  a  boy  like  you  want  of  a 
ferryboat?"  asked  Slocum,  in  surprise. 

"I  have  a  plan  in  my  head,"  said  Bob;  "and 
think  it  would  be  useful  to  me." 


BOB  BURTON  99 

"There  ain't  no  call  for  a  ferryboat  here,"  said 
Ichabod. 

"No ;  you  are  right  there.  I  may  as  well  tell  you 
what  I  am  thinking  of.  Our  crop  of  grain  is  ready 
to  harvest,  and  I  should  like  to  load  it  on  this  boat 
and  carry  it  down  to  St.  Louis  and  sell  it  there 
myself." 


ioo        BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  XV 

BOB  BUYS  THE  FERRYBOAT 

"Good!"  said  Mr.  Slocum.  "I  like  your  pluck. 
Well,  there's  the  boat.  You  can  have  it  if  you 
want  it — for  a  fair  price,  of  course." 

"What  do  you  call  a  fair  price?"  asked  Bob. 

"I  don't  mind  savin'  that  I  bought  it  second- 
hand myself,  and  I've  got  good  value  out  of  it.  I 
might  sell  it  for — a  hundred  and  twenty-five 
dollars." 

Bob  shook  his  head. 

"That  may  be  cheap,"  he  answered;  "but  I  can't 
afford  to  pay  so  much  money." 

"You  can  sell  it  at  St.  Louis  when  you're  through 
usin'  it." 

"I  should  have  to  take  my  risk  of  it." 

"You  seem  to  be  pretty  good  on  a  trade,  for  a 
boy.    I  reckon  you'll  sell  it." 

"Do  you  want  all  the  money  down,  Mr.  Slo- 
cum?" 

"Well,  I  might  wait  for  half  of  it,  ef  I  think  it's 
safe.    What's  your  security?" 


BOB  BURTON  101 

"We — that  is,  mother  and  I — own  the  ranch 
bordering  on  the  other  side  of  the  creek.  The 
wheat  crop  we  are  harvesting  will  probably  amount 
to  fourteen  hundred  bushels.  I  understand  it  is 
selling  for  two  dollars  a  bushel  or  thereabouts." 
(This  was  soon  after  the  war,  when  high  prices 
prevailed  for  nearly  all  articles,  including  farm 
products.) 

"I  reckon  you're  safe,  then,"  said  Mr.  Slocum. 
"Now  we'll  see  if  we  can  agree  upon  a  price." 

I  will  not  follow  Bob  and  Mr.  Slocum  in  the 
bargaining  that  succeeded.  The  latter  was  the 
sharper  of  the  two,  but  Bob  felt  obliged  to  reduce 
the  price  as  much  as  possible,  in  view  of  the  heavy 
mortgage  upon  the  ranch. 

"I  shall  never  breathe  easy  till  that  mortgage  is 
paid,  mother,"  he  said.  "Mr.  Wolverton  is  about 
the  last  man  I  like  to  owe.  His  attempt  to  collect 
the  interest  twice  shows  that  he  is  unscrupulous. 
Besides,  he  has  a  grudge  against  me,  and  it  would 
give  him  pleasure,  I  feel  sure,  to  injure  me." 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  right,  Robert,"  answered 
his  mother.  "We  must  do  our  best,  and  Heaven 
will  help  us." 

Finally  Mr.  Slocum  agreed  to  accept  seventy-five 
dollars  cash  down,  or  eighty  dollars,  half  in  cash, 
and  the  remainder  payable  after  Bob's  river  trip 
was  over  and  the  crop  disposed  of. 

"I  wouldn't  make  such  terms  to  any  one  else," 


102  BOB  BURTON 

said  the  boat  owner,  "but  I've  been  a  boy  myself, 
and  I  had  a  hard  row  to  hoe,  you  bet.  You  seem 
like  a  smart  lad,  and  I'm  favorin'  you  all  I  can." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Slocum.  I  consider  your  price 
very  fair,  and  you  may  depend  upon  my  carrying 
out  my  agreement.  Now,  if  you  will  come  up  to  the 
house,  I  will  offer  you  some  dinner,  and  pay  you  the 
money." 

Ichabod  Slocum  readily  accepted  the  invitation, 
and  the  three  went  up  to  the  house  together. 

When  Bob  told  his  mother  of  the  bargain  he  had 
made,  she  was  somewhat  startled.  She  felt  that  he 
did  not  realize  how  great  an  enterprise  he  had  em- 
barked in. 

"You  forget,  Robert,  that  you  are  only  a  boy," 
she  said. 

"No,  mother,  I  don't  forget  it.  But  I  have  to 
take  a  man's  part,  now  that  father  is  dead." 

"St.  Louis  is  a  long  distance  away,  and  you  have 
no  experience  in  business." 

"On  the  other  hand,  mother,  if  we  sell  here,  we 
must  make  a  great  sacrifice — twenty-five  cents  a 
bushel  at  least,  and  that  on  fourteen  hundred  bush- 
els would  amount  to  three  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars. Now  Clip  and  I  can  navigate  the  boat  to  St. 
Louis  and  return  for  less  than  quarter  of  that  sum." 

"The  boy  speaks  sense,  ma'am,"  said  Ichabod 
Slocum.  "He's  only  a  kid,  but  he's  a  smart  one. 
He's  good  at  a  bargain,  too.     He  made  me  take 


BOB  BURTON  103 

fifty  dollars  less  for  the  boat  than  I  meant  to.  You 
can  trust  him  better  than  a  good  many  men." 

"I  am  glad  you  have  so  favorable  an  opinion  of 
Robert,  Mr.  Slocum,"  said  Mrs.  Burton.  "I  sup- 
pose I  must  yield  to  his  desire." 

"Then  I  may  go,  mother?" 

"Yes,  Robert;  you  have  my  consent." 

"Then  the  next  thing  is  to  pay  Mr.  Slocum  for 
his  boat." 

This  matter  was  speedily  arranged. 

"I  wish,  Mr.  Slocum,"  said  Bob,  "that  you  were 
going  to  St.  Louis.  I  would  be  very  glad  to  give 
you  free  passage." 

"Thank  you,  lad,  but  I  must  turn  my  steps  in  a 
different  direction." 

"Shall  I  have  any  difficulty  in  managing  the  boat 
on  our  course  down  the  river?" 

"No,  you  will  drift  with  the  current.  It  is  easy 
enough  to  go  downstream.  The  trouble  is  to  get 
back.  But  for  that  I  wouldn't  have  sold  you  the 
boat.  At  night  you  tie  up  anywhere  it  is  conveni- 
ent, and  start  again  the  next  morning." 

"That  seems  easy  enough.  Do  you  know  how 
far  it  is  to  St.  Louis,  Mr.  Slocum?" 

"There  you  have  me,  lad.  I  ain't  much  on  rec- 
konin'  distances." 

"I  have  heard  your  father  say,  Robert,  that  it  is 
about  three  hundred  miles  from  here  to  the  city.  I 
don't  like  to  have  you  go  so  far  from  me." 


104  BOB  BURTON 

"I've  got  Clip  to  take  care  of  me,  mother,"  said 
Bob,  humorously. 

"I'll  take  care  of  Massa  Bob,  missis,"  said  Clip, 
earnestly. 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  feel  satisfied  with  that  as- 
surance," said  Mrs.  Burton,  smiling;  "but  I  have 
never  been  accustomed  to  think  of  Clip  as  a  guar- 
dian." 

"I'll  guardian  him,  missis,"  promised  Clip,  amid 
general  laughter. 

After  dinner,  in  company  with  Mr.  Slocum,  Bob 
and  Clip  went  on  board  the  ferryboat,  and  made  a 
thorough  examination  of  the  craft,  with  special 
reference  to  the  use  for  which  it  was  intended. 

"You  expect  to  harvest  fourteen  hundred  bush- 
els?" inquired  Mr.  Slocum. 

"Yes;  somewhere  about  that  amount." 

"Then  you  may  need  to  make  two  or  three  extra 
bins." 

"That  will  be  a  simple  matter,"  said  Bob. 

"The  roof  over  the  boat  will  keep  the  wheat  dry 
and  in  good  condition.  When  you  get  to  the  city 
you  can  sell  it  all  to  one  party,  and  superintend  the 
removal  yourself.  You  can  hire  all  the  help  you 
need  there." 

Bob  was  more  and  more  pleased  with  his  pur- 
chase. 

"It  is  just  what  I  wanted,"  he  said,  enthusiasti- 
cally.   "The  expenses  will  be  almost  nothing.    We 


BOB  BURTON  105 

can  take  a  supply  of  provisions  with  us,  enough  to 
keep  us  during  the  trip,  and  when  the  business  is 
concluded  we  can  return  on  some  river  steamer. 
We'll  have  a  fine  time,  Clip." 

"Golly!  Massa  Bob,  dat's  so." 

"You  will  need  to  tie  the  boat,"  continued  Icha- 
bod  Slocum,  "or  it  may  float  off  during  the  night, 
and  that  would  upset  all  your  plans.  Have  you  a 
stout  rope  on  the  place?" 

"I  think  not.  I  shall  have  to  buy  one  at  the 
store,  or  else  across  the  river." 

"Then  you  had  better  attend  to  that  at  once. 
The  boat  may  become  dislodged  at  any  moment." 

After  Mr.  Slocum's  departure,  Bob  lost  no  time 
in  attending  to  this  important  matter.  He  pro- 
cured a  heavy  rope,  of  sufficient  strength,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  secure  the  boat  to  a  tree  on  the  bank. 

"How  soon  will  we  start,  Massa  Bob?"  asked 
Clip,  who  was  anxious  for  the  excursion  to  com- 
mence. He  looked  upon  it  somewhat  in  the  light 
of  an  extended  picnic,  and  it  may  be  added  that  Bob 
also,  apart  from  any  consideration  of  business,  an- 
ticipated considerable  enjoyment  from  the  trip 
down  the  river. 

"Don't  tell  anybody  what  we  are  going  to  do 
with  the  boat,  Clip,"  said  Bob.  "It  will  be  a  fort- 
night before  we  start,  and  I  don't  care  to  have  much 
said  about  the  matter  beforehand." 

Clip  promised  implicit  obedience,  but  it  was  not 


io6  BOB  BURTON 

altogether  certain  that  he  would  be  able  to  keep 
strictly  to  his  word,  for  keeping  a  secret  was  not  an 
easy  thing  for  him  to  do. 

Of  course  it  leaked  out  that  Bob  had  bought  a 
ferryboat.  Among  others  Mr.  Wolverton  heard 
it,  but  he  did  not  dream  of  the  use  to  which  Bob 
intended  to  put  it.  He  spoke  of  it  as  a  boy's  folly, 
and  instanced  it  as  an  illustration  of  the  boy's  unfit- 
ness for  the  charge  of  the  ranch.  It  was  generally 
supposed  that  Bob  had  bought  it  on  speculation, 
hoping  to  make  a  good  profit  on  the  sale,  and  Bob 
suffered  this  idea  to  remain  uncontradicted. 

Meanwhile  he  pushed  forward  as  rapidly  as  pos- 
sible the  harvest  of  the  wheat,  being  anxious  to  get 
it  to  market. 

When  this  work  was  nearly  finished  Mr.  Wol- 
verton thought  it  time  to  make  a  proposal  to  Mrs. 
Burton,  which,  if  accepted,  would  bring  him  a 
handsome  profit. 


BOB  BURTON  107 


CHAPTER   XVI 

wolverton' s  baffled  scheme 

Mrs.  Burton  was  somewhat  surprised,  one 
evening,  when  told  that  Mr.  Wolverton  was  at  the 
door,  and  desired  to  speak  with  her.  Since  the  time 
his  demand  for  a  second  payment  of  the  interest 
had  been  met  by  a  production  of  the  receipt,  he  had 
kept  away  from  the  ranch.  It  might  have  been  the 
mortification  arising  from  baffled  villainy,  or,  again, 
from  the  knowledge  that  no  advantage  could  be 
gained  from  another  interview.  At  all  events,  he 
remained  away  till  the  wheat  was  nearly  harvested. 
Then  he  called,  because  he  had  a  purpose  to  serve. 

"Tell  Mrs.  Burton  that  I  wish  to  see  her  on  busi- 
ness," he  said  to  the  servant  who  answered  his 
knock. 

"You  can  show  Mr.  Wolverton  in,"  said  the 
widow. 

Directly  the  guest  was  ushered  into  her  presence. 

"I  needn't  ask  if  I  see  you  well,  Mrs.  Burton," 
he  said,  suavely.     "Your  appearance  is  a  sufficient 


108  BOB  BURTON 

"Thank  you,"  answered  Mrs.  Burton,  coldly. 

Aaron  Wolverton  noticed  the  coldness,  but  did 
not  abate  any  of  his  suavity.  He  only  said  to  him- 
self :  "The  time  will  come  when  you  will  feel  forced 
to  give  me  a  better  reception,  my  lady!" 

"I  have  called  on  a  little  business,"  he  resumed. 

"Is  it  about  the  interest?"  asked  the  widow. 

"No;  for  the  present  I  waive  that.  I  have  been 
made  the  victim  of  a  base  theft,  and  it  may  cost  me 
a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars ;  but  I  will  not  speak  of 
that  now." 

"What  other  business  can  you  have  with  me?" 

"I  have  come  to  make  you  an  offer." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Burton,  indignantly. 

Aaron  Wolverton  chuckled,  thereby  showing  a 
row  of  defective  and  discolored  teeth. 

"You  misunderstand  me,"  he  said.  "I  come  to 
make  you  an  offer  for  your  wheat  crop,  which  I 
suppose  is  nearly  all  gathered  in." 

"Yes,"  answered  the  widow,  relieved.  "Robert 
tells  me  that  it  will  be  all  harvested  within  three 
days." 

"Just  so.  Now,  I  am  willing  to  save  you  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  by  buying  the  entire  crop  at  a  fair 
valuation." 

"In  that  case,  Mr.  Wolverton,  you  will  allow  me 
to  send  for  Robert.  He  attends  to  the  business  of 
the  ranch,  and  understands  much  more  about  it  than 
I  do." 


BOB  BURTON  109 

"Wait  a  minute,  Mrs.  Burton.  Robert  is  no 
doubt  a  smart  boy,  but  you  give  him  too  much 
credit." 

"I  don't  think  I  do.  He  has  shown,  since  his 
father's  death,  a  judgment  not  often  found  in  a  boy 
of  his  age." 

"She  is  infatuated  about  that  boy,"  thought 
Wolverton.  "However,  as  I  have  a  point  to  carry, 
I  won't  dispute  with  her." 

"You  may  be  right,"  he  said;  "but  in  this  matter 
I  venture  to  think  that  you  and  I  can  make  a  bar- 
gain without  any  outside  help." 

"You  can,  at  any  rate,  state  your  proposition, 
Mr.  Wolverton." 

"Have  you  any  idea  as  to  the  amount  of  your 
wheat  crop?" 

"Robert  tells  me  there  will  be  not  far  from  four- 
teen hundred  bushels." 

Wolverton's  eyes  showed  his  pleasure.  If  he 
made  the  bargain  proposed,  this  would  bring  him 
an  excellent  profit.  "Very  good!"  he  said.  "It 
will  be  a  great  help  to  you." 

"Yes;  I  feel  that  we  are  fortunate,  especially 
when  I  consider  that  the  ranch  has  been  carried  on 
by  a  boy  of  sixteen." 

"Well,  Mrs.  Burton,  I  am  a  man  of  few  words. 
I  will  give  you  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  bushel  for  your 
wheat,  and  this  will  give  you,  on  the  basis  of  four- 


no  BOB  BURTON 

teen  hundred  bushels,  twenty-one  hundred  dollars. 
You  are  a  very  fortunate  woman." 

"But,  Mr.  Wolverton,  Robert  tells  me  he  expects 
to  get  at  least  two  dollars  a  bushel." 

It  must  be  remembered  that  grain  was  then  sell- 
ing at  "war  prices." 

"I  don't  know  what  the  boy  can  be  thinking  of," 
said  Wolverton,  contemptuously.  "Two  dollars  a 
bushel!     Why  don't  he  say  five  dollars  at  once?" 

"He  gained  his  information  from  a  St.  Louis 
paper." 

"My  dear  madam,  the  price  here  and  the  price  in 
St.  Louis  are  two  entirely  different  matters.  You 
must  be  aware  that  it  will  cost  a  good  deal  to  trans- 
port the  wheat  to  St.  Louis." 

"Surely  it  cannot  cost  fifty  cents  a  bushel?" 

"No;  but  it  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that 
you  can  get  two  dollars  a  bushel  in  St.  Louis." 

"I  must  leave  the  matter  to  Robert  to  decide." 

"Excuse  my  saying  that  this  is  very  foolish.  The 
boy  has  not  a  man's  judgment." 

"Nevertheless,  I  must  consult  him  before  decid- 
ing." 

Mrs.  Burton  spoke  so  plainly  that  Wolverton 
said,  sullenly:  "Do  as  you  please,  Mrs.  Burton, 
but  I  would  like  to  settle  the  matter  to-night." 

Robert  was  sent  for,  and,  being  near  the  house, 
entered  without  delay. 


BOB  BURTON  iii 

Mr.  Wolverton's  proposition  was  made  known 
to  him. 

"Mr.  Wolverton,"  said  Bob,  regarding  that  gen- 
tleman with  a  dislike  he  did  not  attempt  to  conceal, 
"you  would  make  a  very  good  bargain  if  we  ac- 
cepted your  proposal." 

"Not  much,"  answered  Wolverton,  hastily.  "Of 
course,  I  should  make  a  little  something,  but  I  am 
chiefly  influenced  in  making  the  offer  by  a  desire  to 
save  your  mother  trouble." 

"You  would  make  seven  hundred  dollars  at  least, 
out  of  which  you  would  only  have  to  pay  for  trans- 
portation to  St.  Louis." 

"That  is  a  very  ridiculous  statement,"  said  Wol- 
verton, sharply. 

"Why  so?  The  wheat  will  fetch  two  dollars  a 
bushel  in  the  market." 

"Some  one  has  been  deceiving  you." 

"Shall  I  show  you  the  paper  in  which  I  saw  the 
quotations?" 

"No;  it  is  erroneous.  Besides,  the  expense  of 
carrying  the  grain  to  market  will  be  very  large." 

"It  won't  be  fifty  cents  a  bushel." 

"Young  man,  you  are  advising  your  mother 
against  her  best  interests.  Young  people  are  apt  to 
be  headstrong.  I  should  not  expect  to  make  much 
money  out  of  the  operation." 

"Why,  then,  do  you  make  the  offer?" 


ii2  BOB  BURTON 

"I  have  already  told  you  that  I  wished  to  save 
your  mother  trouble." 

"We  are  much  obliged  to  you,  but  we  decline 
your  proposal." 

"Then,"  said  Wolverton,  spitefully,  "I  shall 
have  to  hold  you  to  the  terms  of  the  mortgage.  I 
had  intended  to  favor  you,  but  after  the  tone  you 
have  taken  with  me,  I  shall  not  do  so." 

"To  what  terms  do  you  refer,  Mr.  Wolverton?" 
asked  the  widow. 

"I  will  tell  you.  I  have  the  right  at  the  end  of 
six  months  to  call  for  a  payment  of  half  the  mort- 
gage— fifteen  hundred  dollars.  That  will  make,  in 
addition  to  the  interest  then  due,  sixteen  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars." 

"Can  this  be  true?"  asked  Mrs.  Burton,  in  dis- 
may, turning  to  Robert. 

"It  is  so  specified  in  the  mortgage,"  answered 
Wolverton,  triumphantly.  "You  can  examine  it 
for  yourself.  I  have  only  to  say,  that,  had  you 
accepted  my  offer,  I  would  have  been  content  with, 
say,  one-quarter  of  the  sum,  knowing  that  it  would 
be  inconvenient  for  you  to  pay  half." 

Bob,  as  well  as  his  mother,  was  taken  by  surprise, 
but  he  was  in  no  way  disposed  to  yield. 

"We  should  be  no  better  off,"  he  said.  "We 
should  lose  at  least  five  hundred  dollars  by  accept- 
ing your  offer,  and  that  we  cannot  afford  to  do." 

"You  refuse,  then?"  said  Wolverton,  angrily. 


BOB  BURTON  113 

"Yes." 

"Then  all  I  have  to  say  is  that  you  will  rue  this 
day,"  and  the  agent  got  up  hastily,  but  upon  second 
thought  sat  down  again. 

"How  do  you  expect  to  get  your  grain  to  mar- 
ket?" he  asked. 

"I  shall  take  it  myself." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  shall  store  it  on  a  boat  I  have  purchased,  and 
Clip  and  I  will  take  it  to  St.  Louis." 

"You  must  be  crack-brained!"  ejaculated  Wol- 
verton.    "I  never  heard  of  a  more  insane  project." 

"I  hope  to  disappoint  you,  Mr.  Wolverton.  At 
any  rate,  my  mind  is  made  up." 

Wolverton  shuffled  out  of  the  room,  in  impotent 
rage. 

"We  have  made  him  our  enemy,  Robert,"  said 
his  mother,  apprehensively. 

"He  was  our  enemy  before,  mother.  He  evi- 
dently wants  to  ruin  us." 

As  Wolverton  went  home,  one  thought  was  up- 
permost in  his  mind.  "How  could  he  prevent  Bob 
from  making  the  trip  to  St.  Louis?" 


ii4  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  XVII 

wolverton's  poor  tenant 

Bob  hired  a  couple  of  extra  hands,  and  made 
haste  to  finish  harvesting  his  wheat,  for  he  was 
anxious  to  start  on  the  trip  down  the  river  as  soon 
as  possible.  His  anticipations  as  to  the  size  of  the 
crop  were  justified.  It  footed  up  fourteen  hundred 
and  seventy-five  bushels,  and  this,  at  two  dollars  per 
bushel,  would  fetch  in  market  nearly  three  thous- 
and dollars. 

"That's  a  pretty  good  crop  for  a  boy  to  raise, 
mother,"  said  Bob,  with  pardonable  exultation. 
"You  haven't  lost  anything  by  allowing  me  to  run 
the  ranch." 

"Quite  true,  Robert.  You  have  accomplished 
wonders.  I  don't  know  what  I  could  have  done 
without  you.  I  know  very  little  of  farming  my- 
self." 

"I  helped  him,  missis,"  said  Clip,  coveting  a 
share  of  approval  for  himself. 

"Yes,"  said  Bob,  smiling,  "Clip  has  been  my 
right-hand  man.  I  can't  say  he  has  worked  very, 
hard  himself,  but  he  has  superintended  the  others." 


BOB  BURTON  115 

"Yes,  missis;  dat's  what  I  done!"  said  Clip, 
proudly. 

He  did  not  venture  to  pronounce  the  word,  for  it 
was  too  much  for  him,  but  he  was  vaguely  conscious 
that  it  was  something  important  and  complimen- 
tary. 

"Then  I  must  buy  Clip  a  new  suit,"  said  Mrs. 
Burton,  smiling. 

"I'll  buy  it  in  St.  Louis,  mother." 

When  the  grain  was  all  gathered  in  Bob  began 
to  load  it  on  the  ferryboat.  Wolverton  sent  Sam 
round  every  day  to  report  progress,  but  did  not 
excite  his  nephew's  suspicions  by  appearing  to  take 
unusual  interest  in  the  matter. 

To  prepare  the  reader  for  a  circumstance  which 
happened  about  this  time,  I  find  it  necessary  to  in- 
troduce another  character,  who  was  able  to  do  Bob 
an  important  service. 

In  a  small  house,  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile 
beyond  the  Burton  Ranch,  lived  Dan  Woods,  a 
poor  man,  with  a  large  family.  He  hired  the  house 
which  he  occupied  and  a  few  acres  of  land  from 
Aaron  Wolverton,  who  had  obtained  possession  of 
it  by  foreclosing  a  mortgage  which  he  held.  He 
permitted  Woods,  the  former  owner,  to  remain  as 
a  tenant  in  the  house  which  once  belonged  to  him, 
charging  him  rather  more  than  an  average  rent. 
The  poor  man  raised  vegetables  and  a  small  crop 
of  wheat,  enough  of  each  for  his  own  family,  and 


n6  BOB  BURTON 

hired  out  to  neighbors  for  the  balance  of  his  time. 
He  obtained  more  employment  on  the  Burton 
Ranch  than  anywhere  else,  and  Mrs.  Burton  had 
also  sympathized  with  him  in  his  difficult  struggle 
to  maintain  his  family.  But,  in  spite  of  friends  and 
his  own  untiring  industry,  Dan  Woods  fell  behind. 
There  were  five  children  to  support,  and  they  re- 
quired not  only  food  but  clothing,  and  Dan  found 
it  uphill  work. 

His  monthly  rent  was  ten  dollars,  a  small  sum  in 
itself,  but  large  for  this  much-burdened  man  to  pay. 
But  however  poorly  he  might  fare  in  other  respects, 
Dan  knew  that  it  was  important  to  have  this  sum 
ready  on  the  first  day  of  every  month.  Wolverton 
was  a  hard  landlord,  and  admitted  of  no  excuse. 
More  than  once  after  the  rent  had  been  paid  there 
was  not  a  dollar  left  in  his  purse,  or  a  pinch  of  food 
in  his  house. 

A  week  before  this  time  Dan  was  looking  for  his 
landlord's  call  with  unusual  anxiety.  He  had  been 
sick  nearly  a  week  during  the  previous  month,  and 
this  had  so  curtailed  his  earnings  that  he  had  but 
six  dollars  ready  in  place  of  ten.  Would  his  sick- 
ness be  accepted  as  an  excuse  ?    He  feared  not. 

Wolverton's  call  was  made  on  time.  He  had 
some  expectation  that  the  rent  would  not  be  ready, 
for  he  knew  Dan  had  been  sick ;  but  he  was  resolved 
to  show  him  no  consideration. 

"His  sickness  is  nothing  to  me,"  he  reflected.  "It 


BOB  BURTON  117 

would  be  a  pretty  state  of  affairs  if  landlords  allow- 
ed themselves  to  be  cheated  out  of  their  rent  for 
such  a  cause." 

Dan  Woods  was  at  work  in  the  yard  when  Wol- 
verton  approached.  He  was  splitting  some  wood 
for  use  in  the  kitchen  stove.  His  heart  sank  within 
him  when  he  saw  the  keen,  sharp  features  of  his 
landlord. 

"Good  morning,  Dan,"  said  Wolverton,  with 
suavity.  His  expression  was  amiable,  as  it  general- 
ly was  when  he  was  collecting  money,  but  it  suffered 
a  remarkable  change  if  the  money  was  not  forth- 
coming. 

"Good  morning,  sir,"  answered  Woods,  with  a 
troubled  look. 

"You've  got  a  nice,  snug  place  here,  Dan;  it's  a 
fine  home  for  your  family." 

"I  don't  complain  of  it,  sir.  As  I  once  owned  it 
myself,  probably  I  set  more  store  by  it  than  a 
stranger  would." 

"Just  so,  Dan.  You  get  it  at  a  very  low  rent, 
too.  If  it  were  anyone  but  yourself  I  should  really 
feel  that  I  ought  to  raise  the  rent  to  twenty  dol- 
lars." 

"I  hope  you  won't  do  that,  sir,"  said  Woods,  in 
alarm.  "It's  all  I  can  do  to  raise  ten  dollars  a 
month,  with  all  my  other  expenses." 

"Oh,  well,  I'll  let  it  remain  at  the  present  figure 
as  long  as  you  pay  me  promptly,"  emphasizing  the 


n8  BOB  BURTON 

last  words.     "Of  course  I  have  a  right  to  expect 
that." 

"Dan's  heart  sank  within  him.  It  was  clear  he 
could  not  expect  any  consideration  from  such  a 
man.    But  the  truth  must  be  told. 

"No  doubt  you  are  right,  Mr.  Wolverton,  and 
you've  found  me  pretty  prompt  so  far." 

"So  I  have,  Dan.  I  know  you  wouldn't  be  dis- 
honest enough  to  make  me  wait." 

Dan's  heart  sank  still  lower.  It  was  becoming 
harder  every  moment  to  own  that  he  was  deficient. 

"Still,  Mr.  Wolverton,  bad  luck  will  come " 

"What!"  exclaimed  Wolverton,  with  a  forbid- 
ding scowl. 

"As  I  was  saying,  sir,  a  man  is  sometimes  un- 
lucky. Now,  I  have  been  sick  nearly  a  week  out  of 
the  last  month,  as  you  may  have  heard,  and  it's  put 
me  back." 

"What  are  you  driving  at,  Dan  Woods?"  de- 
manded Wolverton,  severely.  "I  hope  you're  not 
going  to  say  that  you  are  not  ready  to  pay  your 
rent?" 

"I  haven't  got  the  whole  of  it,  sir;  and  that's  a 
fact." 

"You  haven't  got  the  whole  of  it?  How  much 
have  you  got?" 

"I  can  pay  you  six  dollars,  Mr.  Wolverton." 

"Six  dollars  out  of  ten !    Why,  this  is  positively 


BOB  BURTON  119 

shameful !  I  wonder  you  are  not  ashamed  to  tell 
me." 

"There  is  no  shame  about  it  that  I  can  see,"  an- 
swered Dan,  plucking  up  his  spirit.  "I  didn't  fall 
sick  on  purpose,  and  when  I  was  sick  I  couldn't 
work." 

"You  ought  to  have  one  month's  rent  laid  by,  so 
that  whatever  happens  you  could  pay  it  on  time." 

"That's  easy  to  say,  Mr.  Wolverton,  but  it  takes 
every  cent  of  my  earnings  to  pay  my  monthly  ex- 
penses.   There's  little  chance  to  save." 

"Any  one  can  save  who  chooses,"  retorted  Wol- 
verton, sharply. 

"Shall  I  get  you  the  six  dollars,  sir?" 

"Yes,  give  it  to  me." 

"And  you  will  wait  for  the  other  four?" 

"Till  to-morrow  night." 

"But  how  can  I  get  it  by  to-morrow  night?" 
asked  Dan,  in  dismay. 

"That's  your  lookout,  not  mine.  All  I  have  to 
say  is,  unless  it  is  paid  to  me  to-morrow  night  you 
must  move  the  next  day." 

With  these  words  Wolverton  went  off.  Dan 
Woods,  in  his  trouble,  went  to  Bob  Burton  the  next 
day,  and  Bob  readily  lent  him  the  money  he  needed. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Dan,  gratefully;  "I  won't 
forget  this  favor." 

"Don't  make  too  much  of  it,  Dan;  it's  a  trifle." 

"It's  no  trifle  to  me.     But  for  you  my  family 


120  BOB  BURTON 

would  be  turned  out  of  house  and  home  to-morrow. 
The  time  may  come  when  I  can  do  you  a  service.'* 

"Thank  you,  Dan." 

The  time  came  sooner  than  either  anticipated. 


BOB  BURTON  121 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

wolverton' s  wicked  plan 

Wolverton  was  somewhat  puzzled  when  on  his 
next  call  Dan  Woods  paid  the  balance  due  on  his 
rent. 

"So  you  raised  the  money  after  all  ?"  he  said.  "I 
thought  you  could  if  you  made  an  effort." 

"I  borrowed  the  money,  sir." 

"Of  whom?" 

"It  isn't  any  secret,  Mr.  Wolverton.  I  borrowed 
it  of  a  neighbor  who  has  always  been  kind  to  me — 
Bob  Burton." 

Wolverton  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  didn't  know  he  had  money  to  lend,"  he  said. 

"He  always  has  money  for  a  poor  man  who 
needs  it." 

"All  right !  I  shall  know  where  to  go  when  I 
need  money,"  responded  Wolverton,  with  a  grin. 

"It  suits  me  well  enough  to  have  the  boy  throw 
away  his  money,"  Wolverton  said  to  himself.  "It 
will  only  draw  nearer  the  time  when  he  will  have  to 
sue  me  for  a  favor." 


122  BOB  BURTON 

That  day  Wolverton  read  in  a  St.  Louis  paper 
that  wheat  was  steadily  rising,  and  had  already 
reached  two  dollars  and  six  cents  per  bushel. 

"I  could  make  a  fine  thing  of  it  if  I  had  only 
received  the  Burton  wheat  at  a  dollar  and  a  half  a 
bushel,"  he  reflected,  regretfully.  "If  I  had  only 
the  widow  to  deal  with,  I  might  have  succeeded,  for 
she  knows  nothing  of  business.  But  that  confound- 
ed boy  is  always  putting  a  spoke  in  my  wheel.  If 
he  carries  out  his  plan,  and  markets  the  wheat,  it 
will  set  him  on  his  feet  for  the  year  to  come." 

This  reflection  made  Wolverton  feel  gloomy. 
There  are  some  men  who  are  cheered  by  the  pros- 
perity of  their  neighbors,  but  he  was  not  one  of 
them.  He  began  to  speculate  as  to  whether  there 
was  any  way  of  interfering  with  Bob's  schemes. 
Generally  when  a  man  is  seeking  a  way  of  injuring 
his  neighbor  he  succeeds  in  finding  one.  This  was 
the  plan  that  suggested  itself  to  Wolverton :  If  he 
could  set  the  ferryboat  adrift  when  the  grain  was 
all  stored  it  would  float  downstream,  and  the 
chances  were  against  its  being  recovered.  It  would 
be  mean,  and  even  criminal,  to  be  sure.  For  the 
first,  Wolverton  did  not  care;  for  the  second,  he 
would  take  care  that  no  one  caught  him  at  it.  He 
did  not  think  of  employing  any  one  else  in  the  mat- 
ter, for  he  knew  of  no  one  he  could  trust;  and  he 
felt  that  he  could  do  it  more  effectually  than  any 
agent,  however  trustworthy. 


BOB  BURTON  123 

Wolverton  was  so  full  of  the  plan,  which  com- 
mended itself  to  him  as  both  simple  and  effective, 
that  he  took  a  walk  late  in  the  evening  from  his 
house  to  the  point  on  the  creek  where  the  boat  was 
tethered. 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  Dan  Woods,  who  had 
been  employed  all  day,  had  occasion  to  go  to  the 
village  in  the  evening  to  procure  a  few  groceries 
from  the  village  store.  He  delayed  for  a  time, 
having  met  an  old  acquaintance,  and  it  was  half- 
past  nine  when  he  set  out  on  his  return  homeward. 

His  way  led  him  not  only  by  the  Burton  home- 
stead, but  by  the  river  bend  where  Bob  kept  his 
rowboat — the  same  point  also  where  the  ferryboat 
was  tied. 

As  he  approached,  he  caught  sight  of  a  man's 
figure  standing  on  the  bank.  Who  it  was  he  could 
not  immediately  distinguish  on  account  of  the  dark- 
ness. 

"It  may  be  some  one  bent  on  mischief,"  he 
thought  to  himself.  "I  will  watch  him  and  find 
out,  if  I  can,  who  it  is." 

He  kept  on  his  way  stealthily  till  he  was  within  a 
dozen  feet,  when  he  slipped  behind  a  tree.  Then  it 
dawned  upon  him  who  it  was. 

"It's  Aaron  Wolverton,  as  I'm  a  living  man," 
he  ejaculated,  inwardly.  "What  can  he  be  doing 
here?" 

It  was  Wolverton,  as  we  know.    The  old  man 


'124  BOB  BURTON 

stood  in  silence  on  the  bank,  peering  through  the 
darkness  at  the  shadowy  form  of  the  ferryboat, 
which  already  contained  half  the  wheat  crop  of 
Burton's  Ranch — the  loading  having  commenced 
that  morning.  He  had  one  habit  which  is  unfortu- 
nate with  a  conspirator — the  habit  of  thinking 
aloud — so  he  let  out  his  secret  to  the  watchful 
listener. 

"Sam  tells  me  they  expected  to  get  half  the  crop 
on  board  to-day,"  he  soliloquized.  "I  sent  him 
over  to  get  that  very  information,  though  he  don't 
know  it.  It  is  too  early  to  do  anything  yet.  To- 
morrow night  the  whole  cargo  will  be  stored,  and 
then  it  will  be  time  to  cut  the  rope  and  let  it  drift. 
I  should  be  glad  to  see  the  boy's  face,"  he  chuckled, 
"when  he  comes  down  to  the  creek  the  next  morn- 
ing and  finds  the  boat  gone.  That  will  put  him  at 
my  mercy,  and  the  widow,  too,"  he  added,  after  a 
pause.  "He  will  repent  too  late  that  he  thwarted 
me.  I  will  work  in  secret,  but  I  get  there  all  the 
same." 

Wolverton  clasped  his  hands  behind  his  back 
and,  turning,  walked  thoughtfully  away.  He  did 
not  see  his  tenant,  who  was  crouching  behind  a  tree 
not  over  three  feet  from  the  path. 

Dan  Woods  had  no  very  favorable  opinion  of 
Wolverton,  but  what  he  had  heard  surprised  and 
shocked  him. 

"I  didn't  think  the  old  man  was  as  wicked  as 


■BOB  BURTON  125 

that,"  he  said  to  himself.  "He  is  scheming  to  ruin 
Bob  and  his  mother.  Why  should  he  have  such  a 
spite  against  them  ?" 

This  is  a  question  which  we  can  answer,  but 
Woods  became  more  puzzled  the  more  he  thought 
about  it.  One  thing  was  clear,  however;  he  must 
apprise  Bob  of  the  peril  in  which  he  stood.  Even 
if  he  had  not  received  the  last  favor  from  our  hero, 
he  would  have  felt  in  duty  bound  to  do  his  best  to 
defeat  Wolverton's  wicked  plan. 

The  next  morning,  therefore,  he  made  an  early 
call  at  Burton's  Ranch,  and  asked  for  a  private 
interview  with  Bob.  He  quickly  revealed  to  him 
the  secret  of  which  he  had  become  possessed. 

"Thank  you,  Dan,"  said  Bob,  warmly.  "You 
have  done  me  a  favor  of  the  greatest  importance. 
I  knew  Wolverton  was  my  enemy,  and  the  enemy 
of  our  family,  but  I  did  not  think  he  would  be 
guilty  of  such  a  mean  and  wicked  action.  If  he  had 
succeeded,  I  am  afraid  we  should  have  lost  the 
farm." 

"You  won't  let  him  succeed?"  said  Dan  Woods, 
anxiously. 

"No ;  forewarned  is  forearmed.  I  shall  be  ready 
for  Mr.  Wolverton."  And  Bob  closed  his  lips, 
resolutely. 

He  deliberated  whether  he  should  let  his  mother 
know  of  the  threatened  danger,  but  finally  decided 
not  to  do  so.    It  would  only  worry  her,  and  do  no 


126  BOB  BURTON 

good,  as  whatever  measures  of  precaution  were  to 
be  taken,  he  must  take.  He  did  not  even  tell  Clip ; 
for  though  the  young  colored  boy  was  devoted  to 
him,  he  was  lacking  in  discretion,  and  might  let  out 
the  secret.  Bob  did  not  want  to  prevent  the  attempt 
being  made.  He  wished  to  catch  Wolverton  in 
the  act. 

He  did,  however,  take  into  his  confidence  a  faith- 
ful man  who  had  worked  for  his  father  ever  since 
the  ranch  was  taken,  thinking  it  prudent  to  have 
assistance  near  if  needed. 

That  day  the  rest  of  the  wheat  was  stored  on  the 
ferryboat.  All  would  be  ready  for  a  start  the  next 
morning,  and  this  Bob  had  decided  to  make.  He 
sent  Clip  to  bed  early,  on  the  pretext  that  he  must 
have  a  good  night's  sleep,  as  he  would  be  called 
early.  If  Clip  had  had  the  least  idea  of  what  was 
in  the  wind  he  would  have  insisted  on  sitting  up  to 
see  the  fun,  but  he  was  absolutely  ignorant  of  it. 

Wolverton  had  learned  from  Sam,  who  was  sur- 
prised that  his  uncle  should  let  him  spend  almost 
all  his  time  with  his  friends,  Bob  and  Clip,  that  the 
cargo  had  been  stored. 

"When  do  they  start?"  he  asked,  carelessly. 

"To-morrow  morning,  uncle,"  Sam  answered. 

"If  I  had  thought  of  it,"  said  Wolverton,  "I 
would  have  asked  young  Burton  to  take  my  wheat 
along,  too." 


BOB  BURTON  127 

"I  don't  think  he  would  have  room  for  It,  Uncle 
Aaron.    The  boat  is  about  full  now." 

"Oh,  well;  I  shall  find  some  other  way  of  send- 
ing it,"  said  Wolverton,  carelessly. 

About  nine  o'clock  Wolverton  stole  out  in  the 
darkness,  and  made  his  way  stealthily  to  the  bend 
in  the  creek.  He  had  with  him  a  sharp  razor — he 
had  no  knife  sharp  enough — which  he  judged 
would  sever  the  thick  rope. 

Arrived  at  the  place  of  his  destination,  he  bent 
over  and  drew  out  the  razor,  which  he  opened,  and 
commenced  operations.  But  there  was  an  unlooked- 
for  interference. 

A  light,  boyish  figure  sprang  from  behind  a  tree, 
and  Bob  Burton,  laying  his  hand  on  Wolverton's 
shoulder,  demanded,  indignantly: 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Mr.  Wolverton?" 

Wolverton  started,  dropped  the  razor  in  the 
river,  and,  with  an  expression  of  alarm,  looked  up 
into  Bob's  face. 


128  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MR.  WOLVERTON  MEETS  TWO  CONGENIAL  SPIRITS 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Mr.  Wolverton?" 
repeated  Bob,  sternly. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  Bob,  is  it?"  said  Wolverton,  with 
assumed  lightness.  "Really,  you  quite  startled  me, 
coming  upon  me  so  suddenly  in  the  dark." 

"I  noticed  that  you  were  startled,"  responded 
Bob,  coolly.  "But  that  isn't  answering  my  ques- 
tion." 

By  this  time  Wolverton  wa9  on  his  feet,  and  had 
recovered  his  self-possession. 

"What  right  have  you  to  put  questions  to  me, 
you  young  whelp?"  he  demanded,  angrily. 

"Because  I  suspect  you  of  designs  on  my  prop- 
erty." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  snarled  Wolverton. 

"I  will  tell  you ;  I  think  that  you  meant  to  cut  the 
rope,  and  send  my  boat  adrift." 

"How  dare  you  insult  me  by  such  a  charge?" 
demanded  the  agent,  working  himself  into  a  rage. 


BOB  BURTON  129 

"I  have  reason  to  think  that  you  meant  to  do 
what  I  have  said." 

"Why  should  I  do  it?" 

"In  order  to  injure  me  by  the  loss  of  my  wheat." 

"You  are  a  fool,  young  man.  I  am  inclined  to 
think,  also,  that  you  are  out  of  your  head." 

"If  you  had  any  other  purpose,  what  is  it?" 

Wolverton  bethought  himself  that,  in  order  to 
avert  suspicion,  he  must  assign  some  reason  for  his 
presence.  To  do  this  taxed  his  ingenuity  consid- 
erably. 

"I  thought  I  saw  something  in  the  water,"  he 
said.    "There  it  is,  a  twig;  I  see  now." 

"And  what  were  you  going  to  do  with  the 
razor?" 

"None  of  your  business,"  said  Wolverton,  sud- 
denly, finding  it  impossible,  on  the  spur  of  the  mo- 
ment, to  think  of  any  reason. 

"That  is  easy  to  understand,"  said  Bob,  signifi- 
cantly. "Now,  Mr.  Wolverton,  I  have  a  warning 
to  give  you.  If  anything  befalls  my  boat,  I  shall 
hold  you  responsible." 

"Do  you  know  who  I  am?"  blustered  Wolver- 
ton. "How  do  you,  a  boy,  dare  to  talk  in  this  impu- 
dent way  to  a  man  who  has  you  in  his  power  ?" 

"It  strikes  me,  Mr.  Wolverton,  that  I  hold  you 
in  my  power." 

"Who  would  believe  your  unsupported  asser- 
tion?" sneered  the  agent." 


130  BOB  BURTON 

"It  is  not  unsupported.  I  brought  with  me  Ed- 
ward Jones,  my  faithful  assistant,  who  has  seen 
your  attempt  to  injure  me." 

At  this  Edward,  a  stalwart  young  man  of 
twenty-four,  stepped  into  view. 

"I  saw  it  all,"  he  said,  briefly. 

"You  are  ready  to  lie,  and  he  to  swear  to  it," 
said  Wolverton,  but  his  voice  was  not  firm,  for  he 
saw  that  the  testimony  against  him  was  too  strong 
to  be  easily  shaken. 

"I  don't  wonder  you  deny  it,  Mr.  Wolverton," 
said  Bob. 

"I  won't  remain  here  any  longer  to  be  insulted," 
said  Wolverton,  who  was  anxious  to  get  away,  now 
that  his  plan  had  failed. 

Bob  did  not  reply,  and  the  agent  slunk  away, 
feeling  far  from  comfortable. 

"What  cursed  luck  sent  the  boy  to  the  creek  to- 
night?" he  said  to  himself.  "I  was  on  the  point  of 
succeeding,  and  then  I  would  have  had  him  in  my 
power.     Could  he  have  heard  anything?" 

Wolverton  decided,  however,  that  this  was  not 
likely.  He  attributed  Bob's  presence  to  chance, 
though  his  words  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  sus- 
pected something.  He  was  obliged  to  acknowledge 
his  defeat.  Yet  it  would  be  possible  for  him  to 
return  in  an  hour  or  two  and  carry  out  his  evil  plan. 
But  it  would  be  too  hazardous.  The  crime  would 
inevitably  be  traced  to  him,  and  he  would  be  liable 


BOB  BURTON  131 

to  arrest.  No,  hard  though  it  was  to  bring  his 
mind  to  it,  he  must  forego  his  scheme,  and  devise 
something  else. 

When  the  agent  had  left  the  scene,  Bob  Burton 
said :  "Edward,  you  may  go  home.  I  mean  to  stay 
here  on  guard." 

"But  you  will  not  be  in  condition  to  start  to- 
morrow morning.    You  will  be  tired  out." 

"I  can't  take  any  risks  this  last  evening,  Ed- 
ward." 

"Then  let  me  take  your  place.    I  will  stay  here." 

"But  it  will  be  hard  on  you." 

"I  will  lie  later  to-morrow  morning.  You  can 
relieve  me,  if  you  like,  at  four  o'clock." 

"Let  it  be  so,  then.  Too  much  is  at  stake  for  us 
to  leave  anything  to  chance.  I  don't  think,  how- 
ever, that  Wolverton  would  dare  to  renew  his  at- 
tempt." 

Meanwhile  Wolverton  retraced  his  steps  to  his 
own  house.  There  was  one  lonely  place  on  the  way, 
but  the  agent  was  too  much  absorbed  in  his  own 
reflections  to  have  room  for  fear.  His  occupation 
of  mind  was  rudely  disturbed,  when  from  a  clump 
of  bushes  two  men  sprang  out,  and  one,  seizing 
him  by  the  shoulder,  said,  roughly:  "Your  money 
or  your  life!" 

Wolverton  was  not  a  brave  man,  and  it  must  be 
confessed  that  he  was  startled  by  this  sudden  sum- 
mons. But  he  wasn't  in  the  habit  of  carrying  money 


132  BOB  BURTON 

with  him  in  the  evening,  and  an  old  silver  watch, 
which  would  have  been  dear  at  four  dollars,  was 
not  an  article  whose  loss  would  have  seriously  dis- 
turbed him.  So  it  was  with  a  tolerable  degree  of 
composure  that  he  answered:  "You  have  stopped 
the  wrong  man." 

"We  know  who  you  are.  You  are  Aaron  Wol- 
verton, and  you  are  a  rich  man." 

"That  may  be  and  may  not  be,  but  I  don't  carry 
any  money  with  me." 

"Empty  your  pockets !" 

Wolverton  complied,  but  neither  purse  nor 
pocketbook  was  forthcoming. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  so?"  he  said,  shrugging  his 
shoulders. 

"We  won't  take  your  word  for  it." 

The  first  highwayman  plunged  his  hand  into  the 
agent's  pockets,  but  his  search  only  corroborated 
Wolverton's  statement. 

"You,  a  rich  man,  go  without  money,"  he  ex- 
claimed, with  rough  contempt. 

"Perhaps  I  might  have  expected  such  a  meet- 
ing," Wolverton  replied,  with  cunning  triumph. 

"You  must  have  a  watch,  at  any  rate!" 

"I  have  one  that  I  will  sell  you  for  four  dollars." 

As  he  spoke,  he  voluntarily  produced  the  time- 
worn  watch,  which  had  served  him  for  twenty 
years. 

The  thieves  uttered  an  exclamation  of  contempt. 


BOB  BURTON  133 

Their  disappointment  made  them  angry.  They 
hurriedly  conferred  as  to  the  policy  of  keeping 
Wolverton  in  their  power  till  he  should  pay  a  heavy 
ransom,  but  there  were  obvious  difficulties  in  the 
way  of  carrying  out  this  plan. 

Aaron  Wolverton  listened  quietly  to  the  discus- 
sion which  concerned  him  so  nearly.  He  smiled  at 
times,  and  did  not  appear  particularly  alarmed  till 
one,  more  blood-thirsty  than  the  other,  suggested 
stringing  him  up  to  the  nearest  tree. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  for  the  first  time  betray- 
ing a  slight  nervousness,  "I  can't  see  what  ac^yan- 
tage  it  would  be  for  you  to  hang  me." 

"You  deserve  it  for  fooling  us,"  replied  the  sec- 
ond highwayman,  with  an  oath. 

"In  what  way?" 

"By  not  carrying  any  money,  or  article  of  value." 

"I  grieve  for  your  disappointment,"  said  Wol- 
verton, with  much  sympathy. 

"If  you  mock  us,  you  shall  swing,  anyway." 

"Don't  mistake  me !  I  have  no  doubt  you  are 
very  worthy  fellows,  only  a  little  unfortunate. 
What  sum  would  have  paid  you  for  your  disap- 
pointment?" 

"Fifty  dollars  would  have  been  better  than  noth- 
ing." 

"That  is  considerable  money,  but  I  may  be  able 
to  throw  it  in  your  way." 

"Now  you're  talking !    If  you  are  on  the  square. 


134  BOB  BURTON 

you'll  find  us  gentlemen.  We  are  ready  to  hear 
what  you  have  to  say." 

"Good!     But  I  expect  you  to  earn  the  money." 

"How?"  inquired  the  first  gentleman,  suspicious- 
ly. The  word  earn  might  mean  work,  and  that 
was  not  in  his  line. 

"I'll  tell  you." 

There  was  an  amiable  conference  for  twenty 
minutes,  but  this  is  not  the  place  to  reveal  what  was 
said.  Enough  that  it  nearly  concerned  Bob  Burton, 
and  involved  a  new  plot  against  the  success  of  his 
enterprise. 


BOB  BURTON  135 


CHAPTER  XX 

AN  UNEXPECTED  PASSENGER 

The  next  morning  the  boys  were  up  bright  and 
early.  It  was  a  glorious  morning,  and  Bob  accepted 
it  as  auspicious  of  a  pleasant  and  prosperous  trip. 

Clip  was  in  wild  spirits.  He  was  naturally  viva- 
cious and  fond  of  change,  and  the  prospect  of  the 
river  trip  made  him  very  happy.  Bob,  as  a  practi- 
cal joke,  put  on  a  grave  face  and  said:  "Clip,  I 
don't  know  but  I  shall  have  to  leave  you  at  home." 

"What  fo',  Massa  Bob?"  inquired  Clip,  his  face 
assuming  a  look  of  dismay. 

"I  am  afraid  my  mother  won't  be  able  to  get 
along  without  you.  There  are  so  many  things  to 
attend  to  on  the  ranch." 

"I  can't  do  no  good  on  the  ranch,"  said  Clip, 
eagerly.  "I'm  only  a  lazy,  good-for-nothing  nig- 
ger." 

"Then  I  don't  see  how  you  can  help  me,  Clip," 
returned  Bob,  his  eyes  twinkling  as  he  listened  to 
this  candid  confession. 


136  BOB   BURTON 

"Dat's  different,  Massa  Bob.  I  ain't  no  good  on 
the  ranch,  but  I'm  powerful  help  on  the  river. 
Please  take  me  along,  Massa  Bob,"  pleaded  Clip. 

"Just  as  likely  as  not  you'll  get  lost,  Clip.  Be- 
sides, you  might  meet  your  old  master  from  Ar- 
kansas." 

"He  won't  catch  dis  nigger,"  said  Clip,  shaking 
his  head,  resolutely.  "Please  let  me  go,  Massa 
Bob." 

"Your  arguments  are  so  cogent,  Clip,  that  I  sup- 
pose I  shall  have  to  give  in." 

Instantly  Clip's  face  was  radiant.  He  didn't 
know  what  cogent  arguments  were,  but  as  long  as 
they  had  accomplished  his  desire  he  was  content  to 
remain  in  ignorance. 

"But  if  you  give  me  any  trouble,  Clip,"  Bob 
added,  seriously,  "I  may  have  to  put  you  ashore, 
and  let  you  walk  home." 

Clip  gave  the  most  emphatic  assurance  of  good 
conduct,  and  was  informed  that  he  could  go. 

There  was  much  to  do,  even  on  the  last  morning, 
and  though  the  boys  were  early  risers,  it  was  fully 
ten  o'clock  before  they  were  ready  to  start. 

Half  an  hoar  before  this  Bob  had  a  surprise. 

Sam  Wolverton  was  seen  approaching  on  a  run, 
breathless  and  without  a  hat.  He  arrived  at  the 
landing,  just  as  Bob  was  putting  off  in  the  fiat- 
bottomed  boat,  with  a  load  of  provisions  for  the 
voyage. 


BOB  BURTON  137 

"What  on  earth  is  the  matter,  Sam?"  asked  Bob, 
in  surprise. 

"Let  me  get  on  the  boat  and  I  will  tell  you." 

The  boat  was  put  back  and  Sam  jumped  on. 

"Now  what  has  happened,  Sam?" 

"Do  you  see  this?"  said  Sam,  pointing  to  his 
right  cheek,  which  was  stained  with  blood. 

"What  has  happened  to  you?  Did  you  fall  and 
hurt  yourself?" 

"My  uncle  knocked  me  over  and  I  fell  against  a 
block  of  wood." 

"What  made  him  attack  you?"  inquired  Bob, 
indignantly. 

"I  don't  know;  he  got  mad  with  me  for  nothing 
at  all.  He's  been  in  an  awful  temper  all  the  morn- 
ing.   Something  must  have  happened  to  vex  him." 

Bob  smiled.  He  could  understand  what  had  hap- 
pened. Wolverton's  disappointment  at  the  failure 
of  his  villainous  plan  had  no  doubt  soured  him, 
and,  like  a  born  bully,  he  had  vented  his  spite  upon 
the  poor  boy  who  was  dependent  upon  him. 

"I  wish  you'd  more  spunk,  Sam,"  Bob  said.  "He 
wouldn't  dare  to  attack  me  in  that  way." 

"You're  stronger  and  braver  than  I  am,  Bob.  I 
can't  be  like  you.    I  wish  I  could." 

"Your  uncle  is  no  more  nor  less  than  a  bully.  He 
imposes  upon  you  because  he  thinks  it  is  safe  to  do 
so.  He  wouldn't  dare  tackle  me,  because  he  knows 
it  wouldn't  be  safe.' ' 


138  BOB   BURTON 

"Bob,"  said  Sam,  solemnly,  "I've  borne  it  as 
long  as  I'm  going  to.  I  am  not  going  back  to  my 
uncle's  house." 

"Do  you  mean  this,  Sam?" 

"Yes,  I  do.  It's  the  only  home  I  have,  but  I 
would  rather  go  without  a  home  than  to  be  beaten 
and  ill-treated  by  Uncle  Aaron." 

"I  commend  your  pluck,  Sam.  I  can't  say  I  think 
you  are  doing  wrong." 

"I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you,  Bob.  You  are  my 
only  friend." 

"What  is  it,  Sam?" 

"Let  me  go  with  you  to  St.  Louis.  It  would 
make  me  happy  to  be  with  you,  and  I  should  be  out 
of  my  uncle's  way." 

Bob  paused  for  consideration,  the  proposal  being 
unexpected. 

"But  suppose,  Sam,  I  am  charged  with  abducting 
you?" 

"I'll  take  all  the  blame.  Let  me  hide  on  the 
ferryboat,  and  I  won't  show  myself  until  you've  got 
miles  away." 

"That  might  do,"  said  Bob,  smiling.  "Perhaps 
it  isn't  exactly  square,  but  with  such  a  man  as  your 
uncle  we  must  make  use  of  his  own  methods." 

"You  will  take  me,  then?"  asked  Sam,  eagerly. 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  boat. 

"Clip,"  said  Bob,  "go  with  Sam  and  hide  him 
somewhere  on  the  boat,  but  don't  tell  me  where  he 


BOB  BURTON  139 

is  concealed.  Then,  if  old  Wolverton  comes  after 
him  I  can  say  truly  that  I  don't  know  where  he  is." 

"All  right,  Massa  Bob,"  said  Clip,  showing  his 
teeth. 

When  the  contents  of  the  boat  had  been  trans- 
ferred to  the  larger  craft,  Bob  rowed  back,  leaving 
Clip  and  Sam  together.  The  boat  was  roofed  over, 
as  already  stated.  Besides  the  bins  there  was  a  cor- 
ner in  which  some  bedding  had  been  placed  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  young  voyagers.  But  it 
seemed  difficult  to  find  a  suitable  hiding-place  for 
Sam. 

"Where  can  you  put  me?"  asked  the  young  run- 
away, with  a  troubled  look. 

Clip  looked  about  him,  rolling  his  eyes  in  per- 
plexity. 

At  length  his  face  brightened,  for  an  idea  had 
come  to  him. 

In  one  corner  was  an  empty  barrel.  Some  stores 
had  been  brought  aboard  in  it,  and  it  had  been  suf- 
fered to  remain,  with  the  idea  that  it  might  possibly 
prove  of  use.  The  particular  use  to  which  it  was  to 
be  put  certainly  never  occurred  to  Bob  or  Clip. 

"Get  in  there,  Sam,"  said  Clip.  "Old  Massa 
Wolverton  won't  look  for  you  in  there." 

"But  I  shall  be  seen." 

"You  wait  and  I'll  show  you  how  we'll  manage; 
only  get  in." 

Thus  adjured,  Sam  got  into  the  barrel,  and  with 


140  BOB   BURTON 

some  difficulty  crouched  so  that  his  head  was  lower 
than  the  top  of  the  barrel. 

"Now  I'll  show  you,"  said  Clip. 

He  took  a  white  cloth — it  was  a  piece  of  sail- 
cloth and  spread  over  the  top  of  the  barrel. 

"Now  old  Mass'  Wolverton  will  have  sharp  eyes 
to  see  you,"  said  Clip,  triumphantly. 

"That  may  do,"  said  Sam.  "But  it  isn't  neces- 
sary to  put  it  on  now.  It  will  be  time  if  my  uncle 
makes  his  appearance.  I'll  keep  out  of  sight  in  the 
center  of  the  boat." 

Meanwhile  Bob  had  gone  to  the  house  to  bid 
good-by  to  his  mother. 

"I  feel  anxious  about  your  going  off  on  such  a 
long  trip,  Robert,"  said  Mrs.  Burton. 

"You  forget  that  I  am  almost  a  man,  mother.  It 
is  time  for  me  to  assume  some  responsibility." 

"But  you  are  only  a  boy,  after  all,  Robert. 
Think,  if  anything  should  happen  to  you,  what 
would  become  of  me?" 

"My  dear  mother,  you  may  depend  on  my  taking 
excellent  care  of  myself.  I  don't  see  what  risk  or 
danger  there  can  be  in  going  to  St.  Louis.  It  isn't 
a  long  trip.  I  shall  be  back  in  less  than  a  fortnight 
if  all  goes  well." 

"It  will  seem  a  very  long  fortnight  to  me, 
Robert." 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  will  miss  me,  mother,  but 
you  forget  I  have  Clip  to  look  after  me." 


BOB  BURTON  141 

"Clip  is  only  a  poor  colored  boy,  but  I  am  sure 
he  will  prove  faithful  to  you,"  said  Mrs.  Burton, 
seriously.  "Even  the  humble  are  sometimes  of 
great  service.    I  am  glad  he  is  going  with  you." 

Bob  did  not  mention  that  Sam  Wolverton  would 
also  be  his  companion,  as  he  foresaw  that  the  agent 
would  not  unlikely  question  his  mother  on  that 
point. 

Bob  returned  to  the  boat,  and  was  just  about  to 
cast  off,  when  Wolverton  was  seen  on  the  bank, 
waving  his  hat  and  shouting  frantically. 

"I  guess,  Massa  Sam,  you'd  better  get  into  the 
barrel,"  said  Clip,  with  a  grin. 


142  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  XXI 

HOW  WOLVERTON  WAS  FOOLED 

"What  do  you  want,  Mr.  Wolverton?"  asked 
Bob,  coolly,  as  he  stood  at  one  end  of  the  boat  and 
surveyed  the  excited  agent. 

"Come  ashore,  or  I'll  have  you  arrested,"  shout- 
ed the  irate  Wolverton. 

"You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Wolverton ;  but  I  am  in 
considerable  of  a  hurry,  and  have  not  time  to  com- 
ply with  your  request." 

"You'd  better  come  ashore,  if  you  know  what's 
best  for  yourself." 

"Please  state  your  business.  If  it  is  anything  to 
my  advantage,  I  may  come ;  but  I  am  just  ready  to 
start  for  St.  Louis." 

"Is  my  nephew,  Sam,  on  your  boat?" 

"I  don't  see  him.    Why  should  he  be  on  board?" 

"I  suspect  him  of  running  away,  the  ungrateful 
young  rascal !  I  thought  he  might  be  scheming  to 
go  down  the  river  with  you." 

"Clip,"  said  Bob,  gravely,  "has  Sam  Wolverton 
engaged  passage  with  us?" 


BOB  BURTON  143 

"Not  as  I  knows  on,  Massa  Bob." 

"If  he  should,  charge  him  fifteen  dollars." 

"Yes,  Massa  Bob,"  answered  Clip,  with  a  grin. 

"If  you  wish  your  nephew  to  go  to  St.  Louis  on 
my  boat,  Mr.  Wolverton,"  said  Bob,  with  cere- 
monious politeness,  "I  will  take  him,  being  a  friend, 
for  fifteen  dollars,  excursion  ticket.  You  can't  com- 
plain of  that." 

"But  I  don't  want  him  to  go,"  roared  Wolver- 
ton.   "I  tell  you  he  has  run  away." 

"That's  very  strange,  considering  how  kindly 
and  liberally  you  have  always  treated  him." 

Wolverton  eyed  Bob  suspiciously,  for  he  knew 
well  enough  that  the  remark  was  ironical. 

"None  of  your  gammon,  young  man!"  he  said, 
crabbedly.     "Send  Sam  ashore." 

"Really,  Mr.  Wolverton,  you  must  be  joking. 
What  have  I  got  to  do  with  Sam?" 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  you  say.  I  mean  to 
search  your  boat." 

"You  had  better  do  it  at  once,  then,  for  it  is  time 
for  me  to  start." 

"But  how  am  I  to  get  aboard?"  asked  the  agent, 
perplexed. 

"You  might  swim,"  suggested  Bob,  "or  wade. 
The  water  is  shallow — not  higher  than  your  neck, 
anywhere." 

"That  is  nonsense.  Steer  your  boat  to  shore, 
that  I  may  board  her." 


144  BOB  BURTON 

"It  can't  be  done,  Mr.  Wolverton.  We  can  only 
drift  down  with  the  current." 

"Then  how  am  I  to  get  aboard?" 

"That  is  your  lookout." 

Just  then  Mr.  Wolverton  espied  the  flat-bottom- 
ed boat  which  Bob  proposed  to  take  with  him.  He 
had  attached  it  by  a  line  to  the  stern  of  the  ferry- 
boat. 

"Row  over  and  take  me  across." 

"I  can't  spare  the  time." 

Wolverton  was  about  to  give  vent  to  his  wrath 
at  this  refusal,  when  he  observed  a  boat  approach- 
ing, rowed  by  a  German  boy,  named  Otto  Brandes. 

"Come  here,  boy,  and  row  me  out  to  yonder 
boat,"  he  said. 

Otto  paused  in  his  rowing,  and,  understanding 
the  man  with  whom  he  was  dealing,  he  asked, 
quietly:  "How  much  will  you  pay  me,  Mr.  Wol- 
verton?" 

"Five  cents  to  take  me  over  and  back,"  answered 
the  agent,  with  some  hesitation. 

Otto  laughed. 

"I  don't  work  for  any  such  wages,"  he  said. 

"I'll  give  you  ten;  but  be  quick  about  it." 

"Give  me  a  quarter  and  I'll  do  it." 

"Do  you  think  I  am  made  of  money?"  said  Wol- 
verton, in  anger.  "That  is  an  outrageous  extor- 
tion." 


BOB  BURTON  145 

"All  right.  Then  hire  somebody  else,"  said 
Otto,  coolly. 

After  a  fruitless  effort  to  beat  down  the  price, 
Wolverton  sulkily  agreed  to  the  terms,  and  Otto 
rowed  to  the  bank. 

"Now,  row  with  all  your  might,"  said  the  agent, 
as  he  seated  himself  in  one  end  of  the  boat. 

"Your  fare,  please,"  said  Otto. 

"I'll  pay  you  when  the  trip  is  over,"  said  Wol- 
verton. "It's  a  poor  paymaster  that  pays  in  ad- 
vance." 

"Then  you'd  better  get  out  of  the  boat.  Rail- 
road and  boat  tickets  are  always  paid  in  advance." 

"I'll  give  you  ten  cents  now,  and  the  balance 
when  I  land." 

"It  won't  do,  Mr.  Wolverton.  I  don't  care  much 
about  the  job  anyway;  I'm  in  a  hurry  to  get  home." 

Otto  lived  about  half  a  mile  further  down  the 
creek. 

Much  against  his  will,  the  agent  was  obliged  to 
deposit  the  passage  money  in  the  boy's  hand  before 
he  would  consent  to  take  up  the  oars  and  commence 
rowing. 

"That  rascal  Sam  is  putting  me  to  all  this  ex- 
pense," he  said  to  himself.  "I'll  take  my  pay  out 
of  his  skin  once  I  get  hold  of  him." 

Clip  went  up  to  the  barrel  in  which  Sam  was  con- 
cealed. 

"01'  Wolverton  is  comin',  Massa  Sam,"  he  said. 


146  BOB  BURTON 

"Don't  you  make  no  noise,  and  we'll  fool  de  ol' 
man." 

In  spite  of  this  assurance,  poor  Sam  trembled  in 
his  narrow  place  of  concealment.  He  knew  that 
he  would  fare  badly  if  his  uncle  got  hold  of  him. 

"How's  he  coming?"  he  asked,  in  a  stifled  voice. 

"Otto  Brandes  is  rowin'  him.  He's  in  Otto's 
boat." 

"It's  mean  of  Otto!" 

"No;  he  don't  know  what  de  ol'  man  is  after." 

It  took  scarcely  two  minutes  for  Wolverton  to 
reach  the  ferryboat.  He  mounted  it  with  fire  in 
his  eye. 

"Now,  where  is  Sam?"  he  demanded,  in  a  per- 
emptory tone. 

"You  can  search  for  him,  Mr.  Wolverton,"  said 
Bob,  coolly.  "You  seem  to  know  more  about  where 
he  is  than  I  do."    . 

Wolverton  began  to  peer  here  and  there,  looking 
into  bins  of  wheat  and  all  sorts  of  improbable 
places. 

Clip  took  a  broom  and  began  to  sweep  energeti- 
cally. Bob  could  not  explain  this  sudden  fit  of  in- 
dustry till  he  saw  Clip  slyly  slip  the  broom  between 
Wolverton's  legs  as  he  was  hurrying  along,  thereby 
upsetting  the  unfortunate  agent,  who  tumbled, 
sprawling,  on  the  deck. 

"Why,  you  black  imp!"  he  exclaimed,  furiously, 
as  he  picked  himself  up,  "what  made  you  do  that?" 


BOB  BURTON  147 

"Couldn't  help  it,  Massa  Wolverton !  I  'clare 
to  gracious  I  couldn't!"  said  Clip,  rolling  his  eyes 
in  a  most  wonderful  manner.  "Are  you  hurt, 
Massa  Wolverton?" 

"I  'most  broke  my  knee,"  growled  Wolverton, 
as  he  rose  and  limped  toward  the  other  end  of  the 
boat.    "I  may  be  laid  up  for  a  week." 

"It  was  de  ol'  broom  did  it,"  said  Clip,  inno- 
cently.    "Never  see  such  a  broom  !" 

Bob  had  hard  work  to  keep  a  straight  face,  as  he 
heard  Clip's  odd  accusation  against  the  unoffending 
broom. 

This  accident  seemed  to  dampen  Wolverton's 
enthusiasm,  and  the  pain  in  his  knee  increasing 
made  him  desirous  of  getting  home  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble. Besides,  he  began  to  suspect  that  he  was  on  a 
wrong  scent,  as  he  had  thus  far  found  no  trace  of 
his  runaway  nephew.  He  never  once  noticed  the 
barrel,  over  which  the  piece  of  sailcloth  had  been 
thrown  so  carelessly. 

"Well,  did  you  find  Sam?"  asked  Bob,  com- 
posedly. 

"No!"  snapped  Wolverton. 

"I  seed  him  jest  before  you  came,  Massa  Wol- 
verton," said  Clip. 

"Where?"  asked  the  agent,  eagerly. 

"Runnin'  along  the  bank." 

"In  what  direction?" 

Clip  pointed  up  the  creek. 


i48  BOB  BURTON 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  before?" 

"You  didn't  ask  me,  Massa  Wolverton." 

"Take  me  ashore,  quick!"  said  Wolverton  to 
Otto. 

"Hurry  up,  Massa  Wolverton,  and  mebbe  you'll 
catch  him." 

Wolverton  was  already  in  the  boat,  and  Otto 
was  rowing  him  to  the  shore. 

Clip  went  to  the  barrel  and  released  the  prisoner. 

"De  oP  man's  gone,  Sam,"  he  said. 

"I'm  glad  of  it,  Clip.    I'm  almost  suffocated." 

"Golly!  didn't  we  fool  him?"  and  Clip  lay  down 
on  his  back  on  deck,  and  gave  way  to  an  explosion 
of  mirth. 

A  minute  later  the  rope  was  drawn  in,  and  the 
ferryboat  started  on  its  adventurous  career  down 
the  creek. 


BOB  BURTON  149 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  FIRST  DAY 

Bob  was  accustomed  to  rowing,  but  navigation 
with  the  ferryboat  presented  a  new  and  interesting 
problem  which  he  was  eager  to  solve.  A  steering 
apparatus  had  been  rigged  up  at  the  stern,  which 
was  found  strong  enough  for  the  purpose  required. 
Bob  took  his  place  at  the  helm  in  starting,  and  man- 
aged for  the  first  hour  to  regulate  the  direction  of 
his  craft.  By  that  time  they  came  to  a  place  where 
the  creek  widened  considerably,  and  the  boat  show- 
ed a  disposition  to  whirl  round  in  an  eddy.  This 
difficulty,  however,  was  overcome  by  practice,  and 
Bob  began  to  acquire  confidence  in  himself  as  a 
navigator.  But  it  was  evident  that  he  could  not 
remain  at  the  helm  all  day. 

"Come  here,  Clip,"  he  said;  "I  want  you  to  rest 
me  in  steering." 

Clip  took  his  place,  but  his  first  attempts  proved 
discouraging.  He  was  inclined  to  steer  in  just  the 
reverse  direction,  and  twice  came  near  running  the 
boat  ashore. 


1 5o  BOB  BURTON 

"What  are  you  about,  Clip?"  demanded  Bob,  in 
excitement.  "Don't  you  see  you  are  running  the 
boat  ashore?" 

"I  done  just  like  you,  Massa  Bob,"  protested 
Clip.  "De  boat  acts  contrary;  never  see  such  an  oP 
boat." 

"It  is  you  that  are  contrary,  Clip.  You  don't  do 
as  I  tell  you." 

"I  'clar'  to  gracious  I  did,  Massa  Bob !  I  can't 
never  learn  to  steer." 

In  fact,  Clip,  who  was  naturally  lazy,  found  it 
very  irksome  to  stand  at  the  helm,  and  much  pre- 
ferred going  here  and  there  on  the  boat  and  survey- 
ing the  scenery  on  either  bank.  He  hoped  that  his 
incompetence  would  save  him  from  the  task.  But 
his  dream  was  rudely  disturbed. 

"If  you  can't  take  your  turn  in  steering,  Clip," 
said  Bob,  "you  won't  be  of  any  use  to  me.  I  shall 
have  to  send  you  home,  and  get  along  with  Sam's 
assistance." 

"Oh,  don't  send  me  home,  Massa  Bob,"  ex- 
claimed Clip,  in  alarm.    "I'll  try — 'deed  I  will." 

"I'll  try  you  a  little  longer,  Clip,"  said  Bob; 
"but  you  must  not  blame  me  for  sending  you  back, 
if  it  is  necessary." 

No  better  argument  could  have  been  used  to 
insure  satisfactory  work  from  Clip,  who  was  natu- 
rally careless,  and  inclined  to  shirk  work.  Never- 
theless., Bob  felt  glad  that  he  had  another  assistant 


BOB  BURTON  151 

in  Sam  Wolverton,  who  proved  to  possess  all  the 
qualities  which  Clip  lacked. 

When  it  was  one  o'clock,  Clip  began  to  show 
signs  of  distress. 

"I'm  pow'ful  hungry,  Massa  Bob,"  he  said,  in  a 
pleading  tone. 

"So  am  I,  Clip,"  returned  Bob,  with  a  smile.  "I 
will  see  if  I  can't  do  something  to  relieve  you." 

He  had  brought  from  home  a  basket  of  sand- 
wiches and  a  gallon  of  milk.  To  these  the  boys  did 
ample  justice,  displaying  even  more  appetite  than 
usual.  This  was  not  surprising,  for  they  had 
worked  hard,  and  this  in  the  open  air. 

"Sam,"  said  Bob,  "I  can't  hope  to  supply  you 
with  all  the  delicacies  you  would  get  at  home,  but  I 
hope  you'll  make  it  do  with  our  humble  fare." 

Sam  smiled. 

"All  the  delicacies  on  Uncle  Aaron's  table 
wouldn't  spoil  anybody's  digestion.  I  like  my  din- 
ner to-day  better  than  any  I've  eaten  for  a  long 
time.  I  don't  know  what  uncle  and  aunt  would  say 
if  they  could  see  me  here." 

"De  ol'  man  would  be  wild,"  said  Clip,  with  a 
guffaw. 

"I  expect  he  would,  Clip.  He  isn't  fond  of  me, 
but  he  doesn't  want  to  lose  me.  He  will  have  to  do 
his  own  chores  now,  for  I  don't  believe  he  can  get 
a  boy  to  work  for  him." 

About  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  having  ar< 


152  BOB   BURTON 

rived  opposite  a  town  which  I  will  call  Rushford, 
Bob  decided  to  tie  up  for  the  night.  He  and  Clip 
went  on  shore,  leaving  Sam  in  charge  of  the  boat. 
He  did  not  dare  to  leave  it  unguarded,  for  the 
cargo,  according  to  his  estimate,  was  worth  not  far 
from  three  thousand  dollars. 

He  took  the  opportunity  to  enter  a  restaurant, 
where  he  bought  Clip  and  himself  cups  of  coffee, 
and  ordered  a  fresh  supply  of  sandwiches  made  up, 
which  he  arranged  to  have  delivered  at  the  boat 
early  the  next  morning. 

"I  don't  mean  that  we  shall  starve,  Clip,"  he 
said. 

Clip  showed  his  teeth. 

"Dat  coffee's  awful  good,  Massa  Bob,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  but  we  can't  make  it  on  board  the  boat.  I 
shall  have  to  depend  on  getting  it  at  the  villages  on 
the  way." 

"How  far  are  we  from  home,  Massa  Bob?" 

"Well  thought  of,  Clip.    I  will  inquire." 

He  asked  the  keeper  of  the  restaurant  the  dis- 
tance to  Carver. 

"I  don't  know,  but  I  think  my  waiter  comes 
from  that  neighborhood.  Sam,  how  far  away  is 
Carver?" 

"Forty  miles,"  answered  Sam,  promptly. 

"I  thought  it  had  been  more.  We  have  been 
eight  hours  coming  on  the  river." 


BOB  BURTON  153 

That  was  because  the  river — they  had  left  the 
creek  fifteen  miles  up — was  winding  in  its  course. 

On  the  whole,  however,  Bob  decided  that  it  was 
very  fair  progress  for  the  first  day,  and  that  only 
about  two-thirds  of  the  time. 

Rushford  was  a  town  of  fifteen  hundred  inhabi- 
tants, and  presented  as  busy  an  appearance  as  a 
town  three  times  the  size  in  the  East.  Clip,  who 
was  fond  of  variety,  was  reluctant  to  return  to  the 
boat,  but  Bob  said: 

"We  must  relieve  Sam,  and  give  him  a  chance  to 
come  ashore  and  get  some  coffee.  You  come  with 
him,  and  show  him  the  restaurant." 

This  arrangement  suited  Clip,  who  liked  as  much 
variety  and  excitement  as  possible. 

On  returning  to  the  boat  Bob  was  somewhat  sur- 
prised to  find  his  young  lieutenant  in  conversation 
with  an  old  lady,  dressed  in  antediluvian  costume. 
She  had  a  sharp  face,  with  an  eager,  birdlike  look, 
and  seemed  to  be  preferring  a  request. 

"Here's  thecaptain ;  you  can  ask  him,"  said  Sam. 
who  seemed  much  relieved  by  the  return  of  Bob. 

"Is  he  captain  ?"  asked  the  old  lady.  "Why,  he's 
nothin'  but  a  boy!" 

"He's  all  the  captain  we  have,"  answered  Sam. 

"Be  you  in  charge  of  this  boat?"  asked  the  old 
lady. 

"Yes,  ma'am.    What  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"I  want  to  go  down  to  St.  Louis,"  said  the  old 


i54  BOB  BURTON 

lady,  "and  I  thought  maybe  you  might  find  room 
for  me." 

"But,  ma'am,  why  don't  you  take  passage  in  a 
river  steamer?" 

"They  charge  too  much,"  said  the  old  lady.  "I 
ain't  got  much  money,  and  I  s'pose  you  wouldn't 
charge  me  much.  Are  you  any  acquainted  in  St. 
Louis?" 

"No,  ma'am." 

"I  thought  maybe  you  might  know  my  darter's 
husband.  He  keeps  a  grocery  store  down  near  the 
river.  His  name  is  Jeremiah  Pratt,  and  my  dar- 
ter's name  is  Melinda  Ann.  I  want  to  give  'em  a 
surprise." 

"I  never  met  the  gentleman." 

"When  do  you  start?" 

"To-morrow  morning  about  half-past  seven 
o'clock." 

"Can't  you  put  it  off  till  eight?  I've  got  to  pack 
my  trunk  overnight,  and  I've  got  to  eat  a  bit  of 
breakfast  to  stay  my  stummik.  How  much  do  you 
charge?  I'd  be  willing  to  pay  you  seventy-five 
cents." 

"How  much  do  the  steamboats  charge?"  asked 
Bob. 

"I  think  it's  six  dollars,  or  it  may  be  seven. 
That's  too  much  for  a  poor  woman  like  me." 

"I  think  you  will  have  to  pay  it,  madam,  for  we 


BOB  BURTON  155 

have  no  accommodation  for  passengers  on  our 
boat." 

"Oh,  I  ain't  a  mite  particular.  You  can  put  me 
anywhere." 

"I  suppose  you  wouldn't  be  willing  to  get  into  a 
grain  bin?" 

"Oh,  now  you're  jokin'.  Where  do  you  sleep 
yourself?" 

"On  a  mattress  on  the  floor;  that  wouldn't  be 
suitable  for  a  lady  like  you.  Besides,  we  have  no 
separate  rooms." 

"Then  you  can't  take  me,  no  way?"  asked  the 
old  lady,  disappointed. 

"I  am  afraid  not,  madam." 

"You're  real  disobligin'.  I  don't  see  how  I  am 
to  get  to  St.  Louis." 

"I  am  sorry  I  can't  help  you." 

The  old  woman  hobbled  off  in  evident  anger. 
Bob  heard  afterward  that  she  was  a  woman  of 
ample  means,  fully  able  to  afford  steamboat  fare, 
but  so  miserly  that  she  grudged  paying  it. 

"Now,  Sam,"  said  Bob,  "Clip  will  show  you  the 
way  to  a  restaurant  where  you  can  get  a  hot  cup  of 
coffee  and  a  plate  of  meat,  if  you  desire  it." 

While  the  boys  were  gone,  Bob  received  a 
visitor. 


156  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A  SUSPICIOUS  CHARACTER 

Fifteen  minutes  after  Sam  and  Clip  had  left 
him  Bob's  attention  was  drawn  to  a  man  of  some- 
what flashy  appearance,  who,  while  leaning  against 
a  tree  on  the  bank,  seemed  to  be  eying  him  and  the 
boat  with  attention.  He  wore  a  Prince  Albert  coat, 
which  was  no  longer  fit  to  appear  in  good  society,  a 
damaged  hat  and  a  loud  necktie.  His  eyes  were 
roving  from  one  point  to  another,  as  if  he  felt  a 
great  deal  of  interest  in  Bob  or  the  boat.  Our  hero 
was  not  favorably  impressed  with  this  man's  ap- 
pearance. 

"I  wonder  what  he  sees  that  interests  him  so 
much?"  he  thought. 

"I  say,  young  man,  is  this  here  boat  yours?"  he 
asked. 

"Yes,"  answered  Bob,  coldly. 

"What  have  you  got  on  board  ?" 

Bob  felt  under  no  obligation  to  answer,  but  re- 
flecting that  there  was  no  good  excuse  for  refusing, 
he  said,  briefly:    "Wheat." 


BOB  BURTON  157 

"Humph !    How  much  have  you  got  ?" 

This  clearly  was  none  of  the  questioner's  busi- 
ness, and  Bob  replied  by  another  question : 

"Do  you  want  to  buy?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  stranger.  "What  do 
you  ask?" 

"I  can't  say  till  I  get  to  St.  Louis." 

"How  much  do  you  calc'late  to  get  ?" 

"Two  dollars  and  a  quarter,"  answered  Bob, 
naming  a  price  beyond  his  expectations. 

"Ain't  that  a  high  figger?" 

"Perhaps  so." 

"Come,  young  feller,  you  don't  seem  social. 
Can't  you  invite  me  aboard?" 

"I  don't  think  you  would  be  paid  for  coming," 
said  Bob,  more  and  more  unfavorably  impressed. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind.  My  time  ain't  valuable.  I 
guess  I'll  come." 

The  stranger  stepped  across  the  gang-plank, 
which  Bob  had  laid  from  the  boat  to  the  shore,  and 
entered  without  an  invitation.  Bob  was  tempted  to 
order  him  off,  but  the  intruder  appeared  much 
stronger  than  himself;  and  while  he  was  alone  it 
seemed  politic  to  submit  to  the  disagreeable  neces- 
sity of  entertaining  his  unwelcome  visitor. 

The  latter  walked  from  end  to  end  of  the  boat, 
examining  for  himself  without  asking  permission, 
or  appearing  to  feel  the  need  of  any.    He  opened 


158  BOB  BURTON 

the  bins  and  counted  them,  while  Bob  looked  on 
uneasily. 

"I  say,  young  feller,  you've  got  a  smart  lot  of 
wheat  here." 

"Yes,"  said  Bob,  briefly. 

"Got  a  thousand  bushels,  I  reckon?" 

"Perhaps  so." 

uAnd  you  expect  to  get  two  dollars  and  a  quarter 
a  bushel?" 

"Perhaps  I  shall  have  to  take  less." 

"At  any  rate,  you  must  have  two  thousand  dol- 
lars' worth  on  board." 

"You  can  judge  for  yourself." 

"I  say,  that's  a  pile  of  money — for  a  boy." 

"The  wheat  doesn't  belong  to  me." 

"Who  owns  it,  then?" 

"My  mother." 

"What's  your  mother's  name?" 

"I  have  answered  all  the  questions  I  am  going 
to,"  said  Bob,  indignantly. 

"Don't  get  riled,  youngster.  It  ain't  no  secret, 
is  it?" 

"I  don't  care  about  answering  all  the  questions  a 
stranger  chooses  to  put  to  me." 

"I  say,  young  chap,  you're  gettin'  on  your  high 
horse." 

"What  is  your  object  in  putting  all  these  ques- 
tions?" 

"What  is  my  object?" 


BOB  BURTON  159 

"That  is  what  I  asked." 

"The  fact  is,  youngster,  I've  got  a  ranch  round 
here  myself,  and  I've  about  five  hundred  bushels  of 
wheat  I  want  to  market.  Naturally  I'm  interested. 
See?" 

Bob  did  not  believe  a  word  of  this. 

"Where  is  your  ranch?"  he  asked. 

"About  two  miles  back  of  the  town,"  answered 
the  stranger,  glibly.  That  lie  was  an  easy  one. 
"I'm  thinkin'  some  of  runnin'  down  to  the  city  to 
see  if  I  can't  sell  my  wheat  in  a  lump  to  some  mer- 
chant. Mebbe  I  could  strike  a  bargain  with  you  to 
carry  me  down." 

Bob  had  even  more  objection  to  the  new  pas- 
senger than  to  the  old  lady,  and  he  answered, 
stiffly : 

"I  have  no  accommodations  for  passengers." 

"Oh,  I  can  bunk  anywhere — can  lie  on  deck,  on 
one  of  the  bins.    I'm  used  to  roughin'  it." 

"You'd  better  take  passage  by  the  next  steamer, 
This  is  a  freight  boat." 

"There  ain't  anybody  but  you  aboard,  is  there?" 

"Yes;  I  have  two  companions." 

The  stranger  seemed  surprised  and  incredulous. 

"Where  are  they?"  he  asked. 

"Gone  into  the  village." 

The  visitor  seemed  thoughtful.  He  supposed 
the  two  companions  were  full-grown  men,  and  this 
would  not  tally  with  his  plans.    This  illusion,  how 


160  BOB  BURTON 

ever,  was  soon  dissipated,  for  Sam  and  Clip  at  this 
point  crossed  the  gang-plank  and  came  aboard. 

"Are  them  your  two  companions?"  asked  the 
stranger,  appearing  relieved. 

"Yes." 

Sam  and  Clip  eyed  him  curiously,  expecting  Bob 
to  explain  who  he  was,  but  our  hero  was  only 
anxious  to  get  rid  of  him. 

"Then  you  can't  accommodate  me?"  asked  the 
man. 

"No,  sir;  but  if  you'll  give  me  your  name  and 
address,  I  can  perhaps  sell  your  crop  for  you,  and 
leave  you  to  deliver  it." 

"Never  mind,  young  feller.  I  reckon  I'll  go  to 
the  city  myself  next  week." 

"Just  as  you  like,  sir." 

He  recrossed  the  plank,  and  when  he  reached  the 
shore  took  up  his  post  again  beside  the  tree,  and 
resumed  his  scrutiny  of  the  boat. 

"What  does  that  man  want?"  asked  Sam. 

"I  don't  know.  He  asked  me  to  give  him  pas- 
sage to  St.  Louis." 

"You  might  make  money  by  carrying  passen- 
gers," suggested  Sam. 

"I  wouldn't  carry  a  man  like  him  at  any  price," 
said  Bob.  "I  haven't  any  faith  in  his  honesty  or 
respectability,  though  he  tells  me  that  he  owns  a 
ranch  two  miles  back  of  the  town.     He  came  on 


BOB  BURTON  i6t 

the  boat  to  spy  out  what  he  could  steal,  in  my 
opinion." 

"How  many  days  do  you  think  we  shall  need  for 
the  trip,  Bob?"  asked  Sam. 

"It  may  take  us  a  week;  but  it  depends  on  the 
current,  and  whether  we  meet  with  any  obstruc- 
tions. Are  you  in  a  hurry  to  get  back  to  your 
uncle?" 

"No,"  said  Sam,  his  face  wearing  a  troubled 
look.  "The  fact  is,  Bob,  I  don't  mean  to  go  back 
at  all." 

"You  mean  dat,  Massa  Sam?"  asked  Clip,  his 
eyes  expanding  in  his  excitement. 

"Yes,  I  mean  it.  If  I  go  back  I  shall  have  to 
return  to  my  uncle,  and  you  know  what  kind  of  a 
reception  I  shall  get.  He  will  treat  me  worse  than 
ever." 

"I  am  sure,  Sam,  my  mother  will  be  willing  to 
let  you  live  with  us." 

"I  should  like  nothing  better,  but  my  uncle  would 
come  and  take  me  away." 

"Would  he  have  the  right?" 

"I  think  he  would.  He  has  always  told  me  that 
my  poor  father  left  me  to  his  charge." 

"Do  you  think  he  left  any  property?" 

"Yes ;  I  feel  sure  he  did ;  for  on  his  death-bed  he 
called  me  to  him,  and  said :  'I  leave  you  something, 
Sam ;  I  wish  it  were  more ;  but,  at  any  rate,  you  are 
not  a  pauper.'  " 


162  BOB  BURTON 

"Did  you  ever  mention  this  to  your  uncle,  Sam?" 

"Yes." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"It  seemed  to  make  him  very  angry.  He  said 
that  my  father  was  delirious  or  he  would  never 
have  said  such  absurd  things.  But  I  know  he  was 
in  his  right  mind.  He  was  never  more  calm  and 
sensible  than  when  he  told  me  about  the  property." 

"I  am  afraid,  Sam,  your  uncle  has  swindled  you 
out  of  your  inheritance." 

"I  think  so,  too,  but  I  can't  prove  anything,  and 
it  won't  do  to  say  anything,  for  it  makes  him 
furious." 

"What  does  your  aunt  say?" 

"Oh,  she  sides  with  Uncle  Aaron;  she  always 
does  that." 

"Then  I  can't  say  I  advise  you  to  return  to 
Carver,  although  Clip  and  I  are  sure  to  miss  you." 

"  'Deed  I  shall,  Massa  Sam,"  said  Clip. 

"I  think  I  can  pick  up  a  living  somehow  in  St. 
Louis.  I  would  rather  black  boots  than  go  back  to 
Uncle  Aaron." 

"I  am  sure  you  can.  Perhaps  some  gentleman 
will  feel  an  interest  in  you,  and  take  you  into  his 
service." 

"I  want  to  tell  you,  Bob,  that  Uncle  Aaron  hates 
you,  and  will  try  to  injure  you.  You  will  need  to 
be  careful." 

"That's  no  news,  Sam.  He  has  shown  his  dislike 


BOB  BURTON  163 

for  me  in  many  ways;  but  I  am  not  afraid  of  him," 
the  boy  added,  proudly. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  boys  went  to  bed.  They 
were  all  tired,  and  all  slept  well.  It  was  not  till 
seven  o'clock  that  Bob  awoke.  His  two  compan- 
ions were  asleep.  He  roused  them,  and  they  pre- 
pared for  the  second  day's  trip. 


1 64  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

CLIP  MAKES  A  LITTLE  MONEY  FOR  HIMSELF 

About  noon  the  next  day,  while  Clip  was  at  the 
helm,  there  was  a  sudden  jolt  that  jarred  the  boat 
from  stem  to  stern,  if  I  may  so  speak  of  a  double- 
ender  ferryboat. 

Bob  and  Sam,  who  had  been  occupied  with  re- 
arranging some  of  the  cargo,  rushed  up  to  the  col- 
ored pilot. 

"What  on  earth  is  the  matter,  Clip?"  asked  Bob. 

"  'Clare  to  gracious,  I  dunno,  Massa  Bob,"  as- 
severated Clip. 

Bob  didn't  need  to  repeat  the  question.  Clip 
had  steered  inshore,  and  the  boat  had  run  against 
a  tree  of  large  size  which  had  fallen  over  into  the 
river,  extending  a  distance  of  a  hundred  feet  into 
the  stream.    Of  course  the  boat  came  to  a  standstill. 

"What  made  you  do  this,  Clip?"  said  Bob, 
sternly. 

"Didn't  do  it,  Massa  Bob.  01'  boat  run  into  the 
tree  himself." 


BOB  BURTON  165 

"That  won't  do,  Clip.  If  you  had  steered  right, 
there  would  have  been  no  trouble." 

"I  steered  just  as  you  told  me  to,  Mass'  Bob." 

"No,  you  didn't.  You  should  have  kept  the  boat 
at  least  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  from  the  shore." 

"Didn't  I,  Massa  Bob?"  asked  Clip,  innocently. 

"No.  Don't  you  see  we  are  not  more  than  fifty 
feet  away  now?" 

"I  didn't  get  out  and  measure,  Massa  Bob,"  said 
Clip,  with  a  grin. 

"Now,  own  up,  Clip,  were  you  not  looking  at 
something  on  the  bank,  so  that  you  didn't  notice 
where  you  were  steering?" 

"Who  told  you,  Massa  Bob?"  asked  Clip,  won- 
dering. 

"I  know  it  must  be  so.  Do  you  know  you  have 
got  us  into  trouble?  How  am  I  going  to  get  the 
boat  back  into  the  stream?" 

Clip  scratched  his  head  hopelessly.  The  problem 
was  too  intricate  for  him  to  solve. 

"I  think,  Clip,  I  shall  have  to  leave  you  over  at 
the  next  place  we  come  to.  You  are  more  bother 
than  you  are  worth." 

"Oh,  don't,  Massa  Bob.  I  won't  do  so  again. 
'Deed  I  won't." 

Bob  didn't  relent  for  some  time.  He  felt  that  it 
was  necessary  to  impress  Clip  with  the  heinousness 
of  his  conduct.  At  length  he  agreed  to  give  him 
one  more  chance.    He  had  to  secure  the  services  of 


1 66  BOB  BURTON 

two  stout  backwoodsmen  to  remove  the  tree,  and 
this  occasioned  a  delay  of  at  least  two  hours.  Final- 
ly the  boat  got  started  again,  and  for  the  remainder 
of  the  day  there  was  no  trouble. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  afternoon  they  reached 
a  place  which  we  will  call  Riverton.  It  was  a  smart 
Western  village  of  about  two  thousand  inhabitants. 
Bob  and  Sam  went  on  shore  to  get  some  supper, 
leaving  Clip  in  charge. 

"Now,  Clip,  you  must  keep  your  eyes  open,  and 
take  good  care  of  everything  while  we  are  gone," 
said  Bob. 

"All  right,  Massa  Bob." 

About  ten  minutes  after  the  boys  went  away  Clip 
was  sitting  on  a  barrel  whistling  a  plantation 
melody,  when  a  slender,  florid-complexioned  young 
man  stepped  aboard. 

"Good  evening,  sir,"  he  said,  removing  his  hat. 

"Evenin',"  answered  Clip,  with  a  grin.  He  was 
flattered  by  being  addressed  as  "sir." 

"Are  you  in  charge  of  this  boat?" 

"Yes;  while  Massa  Bob  and  Sam  are  gone 
ashore." 

"Are  they  boys  like  yourself?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Are  you  three  all  that  are  on  board — I  mean 
all  that  man  the  boat?" 

"Yes,  massa." 

"Where  are  you  bound?" 


BOB  BURTON  167 

"To  St.  Louis." 

"Do  you  think  they  would  take  me  as  passen- 
ger?'' 

Clip  shook  his  head. 

"They  won't  take  no  passengers,"  he  answered. 
"An  ol'  woman  wanted  to  go  as  passenger,  and 
another  man" — Clip  was  unconscious  of  the  bull — 
"but  Massa  Bob  he  said  no." 

"Suppose  I  make  a  bargain  with  you,"  said  the 
man,  insinuatingly. 

"What  you  mean,  massa?"  asked  Clip,  rolling 
his  eyes  in  wonderment. 

"Can't  you  hide  me  somewhere  without  their 
knowing  I  am  on  board?" 

"What  for  I  do  dat?"  asked  Clip. 

"I'll  make  it  worth  your  while." 

"What's  dat?" 

"I'll  give  you  five  dollars." 

"For  my  own  self." 

"Yes;  for  yourself." 

"And  I  won't  have  to  give  it  to  Massa  Bob?" 

"No;  you  can  spend  it  for  yourself." 

"But  Massa  Bob  would  find  out  to-morrer." 

"If  he  finds  out  to-morrow  I  shan't  mind." 

"And  you  won't  take  back  the  money?" 

"No;  you  can  keep  the  money,  at  any  rate." 

"Where's  the  money?"  asked  Clip,  cautiously. 

The  stranger  took  out  a  five-dollar  gold  piece, 
and  showed  it  to  Clip.     Clip  had  seen  gold  coins 


1 68  BOB  BURTON 

before,  and  he  understood  the  value  of  what  was 
offered  him. 

"Where  can  I  put  you?"  he  said. 

"We'll  go  round  the  boat  together,  and  see  if  we 
can  find  a  place." 

The  round  was  taken,  and  the  stranger  selected 
a  dark  corner  behind  a  bin  of  wheat. 

"Will  Massa  Bob,  as  you  call  him,  be  likely  to 
look  here?" 

"No;  I  reckon  not." 

"Have  you  got  anything  to  eat  on  board  which 
you  can  bring  me  by  and  by?" 

"I'm  going  on  shore  soon  as  Massa  Bob  gets 
back.    I'll  buy  something." 

"That  will  do." 

The  stranger  ensconced  himself  in  his  hiding- 
place,  and  soon  after  Bob  and  Sam  returned. 

"Has  anybody  been  here,  Clip?"  asked  Bob. 

"No,  Massa  Bob,"  answered  Clip,  solemnly. 

Poor  Clip's  moral  convictions  were  rather  ob- 
tuse, and  a  lie  did  not  impress  him  as  seriously 
wrong. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  while  we  were 
away  r 

"Nothin',  Massa  Bob." 

"That's  what  you  like  best  to  do,  Clip,  isn't  it?" 

"Dat's  where  you're  right,  Massa  Bob.  Yah, 
yah!" 


BOB   BURTON  i6> 

"Well,  you  can  go  to  supper,  Clip.  Here's  some 
money." 

"All  right,  Massa  Bob." 

Clip  did  not  seem  in  any  great  hurry  to  go.  He 
was  rather  afraid  that  Bob  and  Sam  would  explore 
the  boat  while  he  was  away.  Finally  he  walked 
away  with  slow  steps,  looking  back  from  time  to 
time. 

"What's  got  into  Clip?"  said  Bob,  wonderingly. 

"I  guess  he  isn't  hungry,"  answered  Sam,  with  a 
laugh. 

Ten  minutes  later  Bob's  attention  was  drawn  to 
a  crowd  of  men  and  boys  who  were  approaching 
the  boat.  He  naturally  wondered  what  was  the 
object  of  the  assemblage. 

The  leader  called  out  to  Bob,  when  he  had  ap- 
proached sufficiently  near : 

"I  say,  boy,  have  you  seen  anything  of  a  man 
with  dark  hair,  florid  complexion,  wearing  a  light 
suit,  running  along  the  bank?" 

"No,  sir.     Why?" 

"A  man  of  that  description  has  stolen  a  sum  of 
money  from  a  dry-goods  store  in  the  town.  He 
was  seen  running  in  this  direction.  We  thought 
you  might  have  seen  him." 

"No,  sir;  I  have  seen  nothing  of  such  a  man." 

Bob  little  dreamed  that  the  thief  in  question  was 
concealed  at  that  moment  within  twentv-five  feet  of 
where  he  was  sitting. 


170  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  XXV 


clip's  secret  mission 


The  man  who  had  addressed  Bob  eyed  him 
sharply  on  receiving  his  negative  answer. 

"It  is  a  pretty  serious  thing  to  connive  at  the 
escape  of  a  criminal,"  he  said. 

"That  remark  does  not  affect  me,  sir.  I  know 
nothing  of  any  criminal.  If  I  had  seen  him  I  would 
tell  you." 

Bob  talked  so  frankly  and  honestly  that  it  seem- 
ed impossible  to  doubt  his  word.  The  leader  of  the 
pursuing  party  turned  to  consult  with  a  friend. 

"The  boy  seems  straightforward,"  he  said. 
"What  do  you  think?" 

"I  agree  with  you.  Still,  the  man  was  seen  to 
run  in  this  direction." 

The  first  questioner  was  the  one  most  concerned 
in  the  capture  of  the  guilty  party,  for  it  was  his 
store  that  had  been  robbed. 

"Have  you  been  here  all  the  time?"  he  asked, 
turning  once  more  to  Bob. 


BOB  BURTON  171 

"No,  sir;  my  friend  and  I  have  been  to  the  vil- 
lage to  get  supper." 

"Did  you  leave  no  one  on  board?" 

"Yes,  sir,  a  colored  boy  in  my  service — a  boy 
named  Clip." 

"Did  he  mention  having  seen  any  suspicious 
party,  or  any  man  who  seemed  to  be  running 
away?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Where  is  he  ?    I  would  like  to  speak  with  him." 

"He  has  gone  to  the  village  to  get  his  supper." 

If  Clip  had  been  present  he  would  no  doubt  have 
been  questioned,  but  as  he  was  absent  the  party  of 
investigation  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  wait. 

"That's  rather  curious,  Sam,"  said  Bob,  when 
they  were  again  alone.  "We  were  suspected  of 
screening  a  criminal." 

"I  wouldn't  give  much  for  the  fellow's  chance  of 
escape.  They  are  evidently  determined  to  catch 
him." 

These  words  were  all  distinctly  heard  by  the  man 
in  hiding. 

"I  was  lucky  to  fall  in  with  the  little  nigger,"  he 
reflected.  "Them  boys  would  have  refused  to  help 
me.  They  would  give  me  up  now  if  they  knew  I 
was  on  board.    I  must  be  careful." 

Clip  came  back  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour.  If 
Bob  had  taken  notice  of  him,  he  would  have  no- 
ticed that  the  boy's  pockets  bulged  out  as  if  crowded 


172  BOB  BURTON 

with  articles.  But  he  had  no  especial  reason  for 
suspecting  Clip  of  any  underhand  proceeding,  and 
sat  with  Sam  talking  about  home  matters,  leaving 
his  young  colored  servant  to  his  own  devices. 

Clip  was  faithful  to  his  trust.  He  had  agreed  to 
take  care  of  his  concealed  passenger,  and  he  was 
determined  to  do  so. 

As  soon  as  he  could  do  so  without  observation, 
he  went  to  the  man's  hiding-place  and  poured  out 
the  contents  of  his  pockets.  There  were  some  buns 
and  small  rolls  and  a  few  round  cakes. 

"Will  they  do  you,  mister?"  he  asked,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"Yes;  but  I'm  terribly  thirsty.  Have  you  got 
any  whisky  aboard?" 

Clip  shook  his  head. 

"We  ain't  got  no  'toxicating  liquors,"  he  an- 
swered. 

"Can  you  bring  me  a  glass  of  water?" 

"I'll  try.  If  you'd  let  me  tell  Massa  Bob  you 
were  on  board,  I  guess  he'd  give  you  some  milk." 

"Milk  be — hanged !  No,  I'll  make  it  do  with 
water.  Don't  you  tell  this  Bob,  on  any  account, 
that  I  am  here." 

"All  right,  massa,"  answered  Clip;  but  he  was 
getting  more  and  more  puzzled.  "Are  you  goin' 
to  stay  in  dat  place  all  night?" 

"Yes." 


BOB  BURTON  173 

"You'll  End  it  mighty  uncomfor'ble.  If  Massa 
Bob  knew  you  was  here " 

"He  is  not  to  know,  do  you  hear?"  said  the 
other,  impatiently. 

"All  right,  massa.    You  know  best." 

"Of  course  I  know  best." 

By  this  time  Clip  was  missed. 

"Where  are  you,  Clip?"  asked  Bob. 

"I'm  jist  loafin'  around,  Massa  Bob,"  said  Clip, 
a  little  startled. 

"There's  something  strange  about  you  to-night, 
Clip;  I  don't  understand  it." 

"I'm  thinkin'  of  old  times  down  in  Arkansaw, 
Massa  Bob." 

"Would  you  like  to  be  there  now,  Clip?" 

"No,  Massa  Bob,  I'd  rather  live  with  you  and 
your  mudder.  My  ol'  massa  use'  to  give  me  plenty 
of  lickin's;  I  don't  want  to  go  back,  never  no 
more." 

Clip  still  continued  to  be  restless  and  uneasy.  He 
knew  he  had  no  authority  for  taking  a  passenger  on 
board,  and  feared  that  Bob  would  take  away  the 
five  dollars  if  he  learned  that  Clip  had  accepted  so 
large  a  sum.  To' do  Clip  justice,  he  had  no  idea 
that  the  man  whom  he  had  hidden  was  an  offender 
against  the  laws,  and  that  the  police  were  in  search 
of  him.  Even  if  he  had  known  this,  however,  it  is 
not  certain  that  Clip  would  have  been  prejudiced 
against  the  offender.    In  truth,  his  prejudices  were 


174  BOB  BURTON 

against  the  agents  of  the  law  rather  than  against 
those  who  had  offended. 

Bob  and  Sam  usually  retired  early;  but  to-night, 
to  Clip's  discontent,  they  remained  up  later  than 
usual,  talking  about  matters  at  home. 

"Isn't  you  ever  goin'  to  bed,  Massa  Bob?"  asked 
Clip,  at  last. 

"What  is  your  hurry,  Clip?    Are  you  sleepy?" 

"Awful  sleepy,  Massa  Bob,"  answered  Clip; 
"can't  hardly  keep  my  eyes  open." 

"Then  you  can  go  to  bed  any  time.  Sam  and  I 
will  soon  follow." 

This  was  not  altogether  satisfactory,  for  Clip 
meant  to  get  up  as  soon  as  Bob  and  Sam  were 
asleep  and  visit  his  passenger,  who  had  expressed  a 
wish  to  have  him  do  so.  However,  there  was  noth- 
ing to  be  said,  and  Clip  withdrew  to  his  bunk  and 
lay  down;  but,  as  may  readily  be  guessed,  his  mind 
was  too  active  for  sleep. 

There  was  some  one  else  who  was  anxious  to 
have  Bob  and  Sam  retire.  This  was  the  hidden 
passenger,  who  found  his  quarters  contracted  and 
uncomfortable. 

"What's  the  matter  with  those  confounded 
boys?"  he  growled  to  himself.  "They  seem  deter- 
mined to  sit  up  on  purpose  to  vex  me.  When  they 
are  once  asleep  I  can  get  up  and  stretch  my  limbs." 

In  about  twenty  minutes  the  boys,  judging  from 
their  deep  and  regular  breathing,  had  fallen  asleep. 


BOB  BURTON  175 

Clip,  who  had  been  waiting  anxiously,  raised 
himself  on  his  elbow  and  eyed  them  closely. 

Feeling  that  it  was  now  safe  for  him  to  do  so,  he 
slipped  out  of  bed  cautiously  and  began  to  feel  his 
way  toward  the  hiding-place  of  his  new  acquaint- 
ance. 

"They're  asleep,"  he  whispered.  "Now,  what 
you  want,  massa?" 

"It's  high  time  they  were,"  growled  the  man. 
"I  thought  they  were  going  to  sit  up  all  night." 

"So  did  I,"  returned  Clip. 

"Are  you  sure  there  is  no  whisky  on  board?"   • 

"No,  massa." 

"I  suppose  you  could  get  some  for  me  on  shore. 
There's  a  saloon  only  three  minutes'  walk  from 
this  place." 

Clip  was  reluctant  to  go  on  shore  on  such  an 
errand;  but  finally  the  offer  of  fifty  cents  for  him- 
self induced  him  to  do  so.  He  took  a  tin  cup  which 
Bob  had  brought  with  him  from  home,  and  started 
on  his  errand. 

At  the  saloon  he  was  asked :  "Do  you  want  this 
for  yourself?    We  don't  sell  to  boys." 

"No,  massa ;  it's  for  a  sick  man." 

"Where's  the  sick  man  ?" 

"On  board  a  boat." 

Upon  this  representation  the  whisky  was  obtain- 
ed, and  Clip  started  on  his  return.  His  curiosity  led 


176  BOB  BURTON 

him  to  take  a  swallow  of  the  whisky  he  was  carry- 
ing, but  it  did  not  commend  itself  to  Clip's  palate. 

"It's  nasty  stuff,"  he  said,  with  a  grimace;  "I 
don't  see  what  fo'  people  drink  it." 

He  carried  the  drink  safely  to  the  passenger, 
who  drank  it  and  smacked  his  lips  over  it.  "It  goes 
to  the  right  spot,"  he  said. 

"Do  those  boys  sleep  sound?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  massa." 

"Then  I'll  get  out  of  this  beastly  hole  and  take  a 
turn  on  deck." 

"Be  keerful,  massa,"  said  Clip,  anxiously. 

"Oh,  yes;  I  won't  make  any  noise." 

Clip  crept  back  to  bed  and  succeeded  in  resuming 
his  place  without  disturbing  or  arousing  Bob  or 
Sam. 


BOB  BURTON        177 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

WAS  IT  THE  CAT? 

Usually  Bob  Burton  slept  all  night;  but  to- 
night, unfortunately  for  Clip,  he  awakened  about 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  By  an  equally  perverse 
chance,  just  as  he  awoke,  the  concealed  passenger, 
now  enjoying  the  freedom  of  the  deck,  broke  out 
into  a  stentorian  sneeze.  Bob  heard  it,  and  so  did 
Clip,  whose  uneasiness  made  him  sleep  more  lightly 
than  usual,  and  both  were  startled. 

"I  hope  Massa  Bob  won't  hear  dat,"  thought 
Clip. 

But  Bob  did  hear  it. 

"What's  that?"  he  asked,  half  rising  in  bed. 

"It's  me,"  answered  Clip,  preferring  to  admit 
the  sneeze  rather  than  have  Bob  suspect  that  there 
was  any  one  else  on  the  boat. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  sneezed,  Clip?"  asked 
Bob,  in  amazement. 

"Yes,  Massa  Bob." 

"You  must  be  dreaming.  The  sneeze  came  from 
another  part  of  the  boat." 


178  BOB  BURTON 

"Are  you  sure?"  asked  Clip. 

"Yes.  What  made  you  tell  me  that  it  was  you 
who  sneezed?" 

"I  t'ought  I  did,  Massa  Bob." 

"When  did  you  wake  up  ?" 

"Just  now." 

"The  sneeze  must  have  waked  you  up." 

"I  dunno,"  answered  Clip,  dubiously. 

"There  must  be  some  one  on  board,  unless  we 
both  dreamed  about  the  sneeze." 

"Mebbe  it's  a  cat!"  remarked  Clip,  ingenuously. 

Bob  laughed.  "It  must  be  a  very  remarkable 
cat  that  would  sneeze  like  that,"  he  said. 

"Jus'  so,  Massa  Bob,"  assented  Clip,  meekly, 
hoping  that  Bob  would  drop  the  subject. 

"I  think,  Clip,  I  shall  get  up  and  search  for  that 
cat." 

"Don't  you  do  it,  Massa  Bob.  He — he  might 
bite  you." 

"I  hope  I  am  not  such  a  coward  as  to  be  afraid 
of  a  cat." 

Bob  rose  and  lighted  a  candle  which  he  had  with 
him.  Then,  followed  by  Clip,  he  advanced  to  the 
other  end  of  the  deck.  But  the  passenger  had  warn- 
ing, having  heard  the  conversation  which  had  taken 
place  between  Bob  and  Clip,  and  had  hurriedly 
retreated  to  his  former  hiding-place.  It  did  not 
occur  to  Bob  to  look  there,  and  he  returned  from 
his  fruitless  search  more  mystified  than  ever. 


BOB  BURTON  179 

But,  Clip,  being  close  beside  him,  he  caught  the 
aroma  of  the  single  swallow  of  whisky  which  Clip 
had  taken,  and  he  immediately  began  to  suspect 
poor  Clip  of  having  indulged  in  much  deeper  pota- 
tions than  he  was  guilty  of. 

"Clip,"  he  said,  suddenly,  "I  smell  whisky." 

"Does  you,  Massa  Bob?"  asked  Clip,  feeling 
that  he  was  getting  into  a  scrape. 

"Yes,  I  do,  Clip,  and  where  do  you  think  it 
comes  from?" 

"Don't  know,  Massa  Bob;  'deed  I  don't." 

"It  comes  from  your  mouth,  Clip.  You've  been 
drinking!" 

Drops  of  perspiration  stood  on  Clip's  forehead. 
He  could  not  excuse  himself,  or  explain  matters, 
without  betraying  his  secret.  Not  thinking  of  any- 
thing to  say,  he  said  nothing. 

"Tell  me  the  truth,  Clip;  have  you  been  drink- 
ing?" 

"I  jes'  took  a  little  swaller." 

"Where  did  you  take  it?" 

"On  sho'." 

"What  made  you  do  such  a  thing?  I  didn't 
dream  that  you  were  getting  intemperate,  Clip." 

"You  see,  Massa  Bob,  a  gen'leman  asked  me  to 
bring  him  a  drink  of  whisky,  and  I  t'ought  I'd  jest 
see  how  it  tasted." 

"Who  asked  you  to  bring  him  some  whisky?" 


i8o  BOB  BURTON 

asked  Bob,  who  believed  this  to  be  a  pure  fiction  on 
the  part  of  his  young  companion. 

"A  gen'leman." 

"What  gentleman?" 

"He  didn't  tell  me  his  name." 

"I  think  you  are  telling  me  a  lie,  Clip." 

"No,  I  ain't,  Massa  Bob;  it's  as  true  as  de 
Bible." 

"I  don't  think  you  know  much  about  the  Bible, 
Clip." 

"It's  all  true  what  I  told  you,  Massa  Bob.  If  I 
find  de  gen'leman,  I'll  bring  him  here  to  tell  you." 

The  witness  referred  to  smiled  to  himself  grimly 
when  he  heard  this  statement. 

"That  little  nigger's  a  brick !"  he  said  to  himself. 
"As  to  that  other  boy,  I'd  like  to  throw  him  over- 
board. He's  too  fond  of  meddling  with  other  peo- 
ple's business." 

It  may  occur  to  the  reader  that  this  was  hardly  a 
fair  way  of  stating  the  case.  As  the  boat  belonged 
to  Bob,  and  he  was  the  commander,  it  might  safely 
be  assumed  that  he  had  a  right  to  inquire  into  any- 
thing that  excited  his  suspicion. 

"Are  you  goin'  back  to  bed,  Massa  Bob?"  asked 
Clip,  uneasily. 

"Wait  a  minute,  Clip;  I  want  to  get  a  drink  of 
water." 

Again  poor  Clip  was  in  bad  luck.  The  tin  dipper 


BOB  BURTON  181 

had  been  used  to  procure  the  whisky,  and  of  course 
it  still  smelled  strongly  of  that  liquor. 

"Clip,"  said  Bob,  as  soon  as  he  had  raised  it  to 
his  lips,  "you  got  some  whiskey  in  this  cup." 

"Ye — es,"  admitted  Clip. 

"And  you  drank  it  yourself  instead  of  giving  it 
to  any  gentleman." 

"No,  I  didn't,  Massa  Bob,"  stoutly,  and  as  we 
know  truly,  asserted  Clip. 

"I'm  ashamed  of  you,  Clip.  If  you  are  going  to 
act  in  this  way,  I  shall  have  to  send  you  home.  You 
have  been  acting  very  queerly  this  evening.  Sam 
and  I  both  noticed  it,  but  I  didn't  think  you  had 
formed  a  taste  for  whisky." 

"I  don't  love  it,  Massa  Bob.  I  hate  it.  It's 
awful  nasty  stuff." 

"And  you  didn't  drink  this  dipper  full,  then?" 

"No,  I  didn't." 

"What  did  you  do  with  it?" 

"Throwed  it  away,  Massa  Bob.  I  only  took  one 
swallow.  I  couldn't  drink  it  if  you  gave  me  half  a 
dollar;  'deed  I  couldn't." 

"I  hope  this  is  true,  Clip.  I  shouldn't  like  to  tell 
my  mother  that  you  had  become  intemperate." 

"What's  the  matter?"  was  heard  from  Sam's  bed 
at  this  juncture.    "Where  are  you,  Bob?" 

"Here  I  am,  Sam." 

"What  made  you  get  up?" 


1 82  BOB  BURTON 

"I  thought  I  heard  a  noise  on  deck;  so  Clip  and  I 
got  up." 

"What  was  it  like?" 

"A  sneeze.    Clip  thought  it  might  be  a  cat." 

Bob  and  Sam  laughed  at  the  ludicrous  idea,  and 
Clip  joined  in,  glad  that  Bob's  embarrassing  cross- 
examination  was  over. 

"You'd  better  come  to  bed,  both  of  you.  Very 
likely  you  dreamed  it." 

At  that  moment,  and  before  Bob  had  put  out  the 
candle,  there  was  a  most  unlooked-for  corrobora- 
tion of  Clip's  singular  theory. 

An  immense  tom-cat  ran  swiftly  between  Bob's 
legs,  from  some  place  of  concealment.  Both  he 
and  Clip  saw  it,  and  the  latter  was  quick  to  take 
advantage  of  the  opportune  appearance  of  the 
animal. 

"Dare's  de  cat,  Massa  Bob,"  he  shouted,  tri- 
umphantly.    "Didn't  I  tell  you  it  was  a  cat?" 

Bob  was  temporarily  nonplussed.  Clip  seemed 
to  have  the  best  of  the  argument. 

"All  I  can  say  is,  it  is  a  remarkable  cat,"  he 
said.     "I  wish  it  would  sneeze  again." 

The  rest  of  the  night  passed  without  anything 
remarkable  happening.  All  three  boys  slept 
soundly.  Indeed,  it  was  later  than  usual,  prob- 
ably on  account  of  their  sleep  being  interrupted 
during  the  night,  that  they  awoke. 


BOB  BURTON  183 

According  to  custom,  the  boys  took  turns  in  go- 
ing out  to  breakfast. 

"Clip,  you  and  Sam  go  out  together,"  said  Bob. 
"I  will  take  my  turn  afterward." 

"I  ain't  in  no  hurry,  Massa  Bob,"  said  Clip. 
"You  and  Sam  go  first,  and  I  will  go  afterward." 

Bob  thought  this  a  little  strange,  but  did  not 
object. 

When  Clip  was  left  alone  he  went  at  once  to 
see  his  charge. 

"Hope  you  pass  de  night  good,"  said  Clip, 
politely. 

"I'm  awfully  cramped  up,"  groaned  the  other. 
"But  you're  a  trump,  Clip.  You  stood  by  me  like 
a  Trojan." 

"Thank  you,  massa.  I'm  afraid  Massa  Bob'll 
find  you  out.    How  long  you  goin'  to  stay?" 

"Till  I  get  a  few  miles  from  this  town.  Then 
he  may  find  me  and  welcome." 

Clip  felt  that  it  would  be  a  great  relief  to  him 
when  there  was  no  further  need  of  concealment. 


1 84        BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  MYSTERIOUS  PASSENGER  IS  DISCOVERED 

Bob  Burton  started  on  his  trip  down  the  river 
quite  unaware  that  he  carried  a  passenger;  Clip's 
peculiar  nervousness  attracted  his  attention,  and  he 
wondered  at  it,  but  finally  was  led  to  attribute  it 
to  whisky,  of  which  he  credited  Clip  with  having 
drunk  a  considerable  amount.  We  know  that  he 
was  mistaken  in  this,  but  those  who  practice  de- 
ception are  apt  to  be  misjudged,  and  have  no  right 
to  complain. 

One  more  discovery  puzzled  Bob.  Clip  hap- 
pened  to  have  a  hole  in  the  pocket  in  which  he 
carried  the  money  given  him  by  the  mysterious  pas- 
senger. At  first  it  was  not  large  enough  to  im- 
peril the  safety  of  the  coin;  but  Clip  thrust  his 
hand  so  often  into  his  pocket  to  see  if  the  money 
was  safe  that  he  had  unconsciously  enlarged  the 
opening.  As  a  result  of  this,  as  he  was  walking 
the  deck,  a  two-dollar-and-a-half  gold  piece,  ob- 
tained in  change,  slipped  out  and  fell  upon  the 
deck.  Bob  happened  to  be  close  at  hand,  and  in- 
stantly espied  the  coin. 


BOB  BURTON  185; 

Clip  walked  on  without  noticing  his  loss. 

Bob  stooped  and  picked  up  the  coin. 

"A  gold  piece!"  he  thought,  in  amazement. 
"Where  can  Clip  possibly  have  got  it?" 

He  had  not  missed  any  of  his  own  money.  In- 
deed, he  knew  that  none  of  it  was  gold.  Cer- 
tainly the  case  looked  very  mysterious. 

"Clip!"  he  said. 

"What,  Massa  Bob?"  returned  Clip,  innocently. 

"Is  this  gold  piece  yours?" 

Clip  started,  and,  if  he  had  been  white,  would 
have  turned  pale. 

"I  reckon  it  is,  Massa  Bob,"  he  answered,  with 
hesitation. 

"Where  did  it  come  from?" 

"From  my  pocket,"  he  answered. 

"But  how  did  it  come  to  get  into  your  pocket, 
Clip?" 

"I  put  it  there." 

"Look  here,  Clip,"  said  Bob,  sternly;  "you  are 
evading  the  question?" 

"What's  dat,  Massa  Bob?" 

"You  are  trying  to  get  rid  of  telling  me  the 
truth.    Did  you  steal  this  money?" 

"No,  I  didn't,"  answered  Clip,  indignantly.  "I 
nebber  steal." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  Then,  if  you  didn't  steal 
it,  how  did  you  get  it?" 

Clip  scratched  his  kinky  hair.    He  was  puzzled. 


186  BOB   BURTON 

"I  done  found  it,"  he  answered,  at  length. 

"Where  did  you  find  it?" 

"In  de — de  street." 

"When  and  where?" 

"Dis  mornin',  when  I  was  comin'  from  break- 
fast." 

"If  you  found  it,  there  would  be  no  objection 
to  your  keeping  it,"  he  said,  "provided  you  could 
not  find  the  original  owner." 

"Can't  find  him  nohow,"  answered  Clip  briskly. 

"Come  here  a  minute." 

Clip  approached,  not  understanding  Bob's 
reason  for  calling  him. 

Bob  suddenly  thrust  his  hand  into  Clip's  pocket, 
and  drew  out  two  silver  dollars  and  a  quarter,  the 
remains  of  the  five-dollar  gold  piece,  Clip  having 
spent  a  quarter. 

"What  is  all  this?"  he  asked,  in  amazement. 
"Did  you  find  this  money,  too?" 

"Yes,  Massa  Bob,"  he  answered  faintly. 

"Clip,  I  am  convinced  you  are  lying." 

"No,  I'm  not." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  found  all  these 
coins  on  the  sidewalk?" 

"Yes,  Massa  Bob." 

"That  is  not  very  likely.  Clip,  I  don't  want  to 
suspect  you  of  dishonesty,  but  it  looks  very  much 
as  if  you  had  been  stealing." 


BOB  BURTON  187 

uNo,  I  haven't,  Massa  Bob,"  asserted  Clip, 
stoutly. 

"Do  you  still  tell  me  that  you  found  all  this 
money?" 

Clip  began  to  find  himself  involved  in  the  in- 
tricacies of  his  lie,  and  his  courage  gave  out. 

"No,  Massa  Bob.  Don't  you  get  mad  with  me, 
and  I'll  tell  you  the  trufe." 

"Tell  it,  then." 

"A  gemman  gave  it  to  me." 

"A  gentleman  gave  you  this  money?  What  did 
he  give  it  to  you  for?" 

"He — he  wanted  to  go  down  de  ribber,"  stam- 
mered Clip. 

"Wanted  to  go  down  the  river?  Suppose  he 
did?"  said  Bob,  not  yet  understanding.  "Why 
should  he  give  you  this  money?" 

"He  wanted  me  to  let  him  go  as  a  passenger  on 
de  boat." 

"Ha !"  said  Bob,  a  sudden  light  breaking  in 
upon  him.    "And  you  agreed  to  take  him  ?" 

"Ye-es,  Massa  Bob." 

"Where  is  he  now?" 

It  was  not  Clip  that  answered  this  question. 
There  was  heard  a  noise  from  the  corner  as  of 
some  one  moving  about,  and  from  his  sheltered 
place  of  refuge  the  mysterious  passenger  stepped 
forth.  He  coolly  took  out  his  silk  handkerchief 
and  dusted  his  coat  and  vest. 


1 88  BOB  BURTON 

"Really,"  he  said,  "I  can't  say  much  for  your 
accommodations  for  passengers.  Have  you  got 
such  a  thing  as  a  clothes  brush  on  board  this 
craft?" 

Bob  stared  at  him  in  amazement,  and  could  not 
find  a  word  to  say  for  the  space  of  a  minute. 

"Who  are  you,  sir?"  he  asked,  at  length. 

"Who  am  I?  Well,  you  may  call  me  John 
Smith,  for  want  of  a  better  name." 

"When  did  you  come  on  board?" 

"At  the  last  landing.  I  made  a  bargain  with 
that  dark-complexioned  young  man" — with  a  grin 
at  Clip — "who,  for  the  sum  of  five  dollars,  agreed 
to  convey  me  to  St.  Louis.  It  wasn't  a  very  high 
price,  if  I  had  decent  accommodations." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  this,  Clip?"  demanded 
Bob. 

"I — de  gemman  didn't  want  me  to,"  stammered 
Clip. 

"Quite  right,"  corroborated  the  stranger.  "I 
told  Clip  he  needn't  mention  our  little  arrange- 
ment, as  he  thought  you  might  object  to  it.  I  don't 
blame  him  for  telling  you  at  last,  for  you  forced 
him  to  do  so.     I  suppose  you  are  the  captain?" 

"I  am  all  the  captain  there  is,"  answered  Bob. 

"I  am  delighted  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
really.  I  assure  you  I  am  glad  to  get  out  of  that 
dusty  hole,  and  I  presume  you  will  allow  me  the 
freedom  of  the  deck." 


BOB  BURTON  189 

The  stranger  was  so  cool  and  self-possessed — ■ 
cheeky,  perhaps  it  might  be  called — that  Bob  eyed 
him  in  wonder. 

"Why  did  you  select  my  boat  in  preference  to 
a  regular  passenger  steamer?"  he  asked. 

"A  little  whim  of  mine  I"  answered  the  other, 
airily.  "The  truth  is,  I  am  a  newspaper  reporter, 
and  I  thought  such  a  trip  as  I  am  making  would 
furnish  the  material  for  a  taking  article.  I  mean 
to  call  it  Tn  the  Steerage;  or,  a  Boat  Ride  on  the 
Missouri.'     Good  idea,  isn't  it?" 

"Why,  yes,  it  might  be,"  said  Bob,  drily;  "but 
I  think  the  owner  of  the  boat  ought  to  have  been 
consulted." 

"Accept  my  apologies,  Captain  Bob,"  said  the 
passenger,  with  a  smile.  "If  there  was  a  saloon 
near  I  would  invite  you  to  take  a  drink  with  me, 
but " 

"Never  mind;  I  don't  drink.    Here,  Clip !" 

"Well,  Massa  Bob?" 

"You  did  wrong  to  take  this  man's  money,  and 
you  must  return  it." 

At  these  words  Clip's  countenance  fell. 

Bob  counted  the  money  and  handed  it  to  the 
stranger. 

"There  are  twenty-five  cents  missing,"  he  said. 
"I  will  make  that  up  from  my  own  pocket." 

"Let  the  boy  keep  the  money.  I  don't  want  it 
back." 


190  BOB  BURTON 

"I  cannot  allow  him  to  keep  it." 

Clip's  face,  which  had  brightened  up  at  the 
stranger's  words,  fell  again. 

"What  is  your  objection?"  asked  the  passenger. 

"I  may  as  well  be  frank  with  you.  I  under- 
stand your  reason  for  embarking  on  my  boat  in 
preference  to  waiting  for  a  river  steamer — you 
were  in  a  hurry  to  leave  the  town." 

"That's  what  I  said." 

"Shall  I  mention  the  reason?" 

"If  you  like." 

"Because  you  have  been  implicated  in  robbing 
a  store — perhaps  several.    This  is  stolen  money." 

"I  deny  it.  I  may  have  been  suspected.  In 
fact,  I  don't  mind  admitting  that  I  was,  and  that 
I  thought  it  my  best  policy  to  get  away.  The 
good  people  were  likely  to  give  me  a  great  deal 
of  trouble.    Thanks  to  you " 

"Not  to  me." 

"To  Clip,  then,  I  managed  to  elude  their  vigi- 
lance. It  makes  me  laugh  to  think  of  their  disap- 
pointment." 

Bob  did  not  appear  to  look  upon  it  as  a  joke, 
however. 

"Of  course  I  shall  not  allow  you  to  remain  on 
the  boat,"  he  said. 

"I'll  give  you  twenty-five — thirty  dollars,"  said 
the  stranger,  earnestly. 


BOB  BURTON  191 

"I  decline.  It  would  be  making  me  your  ac- 
complice.   I  would  be  receiving  stolen  money." 

"What  do  you  propose,  then?" 

"I  will  steer  the  boat  as  near  the  shore  as  I  can, 
and  request  you  to  land." 

The  stranger  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Very  well,"  he  said.  "We  must  be  eight  or 
ten  miles  away  from  my  accusers.  I  think  I  can 
manage  for  myself  now." 

In  ten  minutes  the  stranger  stepped  jauntily 
ashore,  and,  lifting  hi§  hat,  bade  Bob  a  cheerful 
good-by. 


i92  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

SAM  FINDS  A  RELATION 

As  my  readers  may  feel  interested  in  the  subse- 
quent adventures  of  the  mysterious  passenger,  I 
may  state  that  his  extraordinary  coolness  did  not 
save  him.  A  description  of  his  appearance  had 
been  sent  to  the  neighboring  towns,  and  only  a 
few  hours  after  he  had  left  the  ferryboat  he  was 
arrested  and  taken  back  to  the  scene  of  his  theft. 
A  trial  was  held  immediately,  and  before  the  end 
of  a  week  he  found  himself  an  inmate  of  the  county 
jail. 

On  the  day  succeeding  his  departure,  Bob 
brought  the  boat  to  anchor  at  a  place  we  will  call 
Sheldon. 

There  was  no  restaurant,  and  Bob  and  Sam 
took  supper  at  the  Sheldon  Hotel. 

Clip  had  been  sent  on  shore  first,  and  the  boys 
felt  in  no  hurry  to  return.  They  accordingly  sat 
down  on  a  settee  upon  the  veranda  which  ran  along 
the  front  of  the  hotel. 

As  they  sat  there,  unknown  to  themselves,  they 


BOB  BURTON  193 

attracted  the  attention  of  a  middle-aged  man  with 
sandy  hair  and  complexion,  whose  glances,  how- 
ever, seemed  to  be  especially  directed  toward  Sam. 

Finally  he  approached  the  boys,  and  commenced 
a  conversation. 

"Young  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "you  are  strangers 
here,  I  imagine?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Bob. 

"Are  you  traveling  through  the  country?" 

"We  have  a  boat  on  the  river,  sir;  but  we  gen- 
erally tie  up  at  night,  and  start  fresh  in  the 
morning." 

"How  far  do  you  intend  going?" 

"To  St.  Louis." 

"Pardon  my  curiosity,  but  it  is  not  common  for 
two  boys  of  your  age  to  undertake  such  an  enter- 
prise alone.    Are  you  in  charge  of  the  boat?" 

"He  is,"  said  Sam,  indicating  Bob. 

"And  you,  I  suppose,  are  a  relative  of  his?" 

"No,  sir;  I  help  him." 

"Have  you  come  from  a  distance?" 

"Decidedly,"  thought  Bob,  "this  gentleman  is 
very  curious." 

Still  there  seemed  to  be  no  reason  for  conceal- 
ment, and  accordingly  he  mentioned  the  name  of 
the  village  in  which  Sam  and  himself  made  their 
home. 

Their  new  acquaintance  appeared  to  take  ex- 
traordinary interest  in  this  intelligence. 


194  BOB   BURTON 

"Is  there  a  man  named  Wolverton  who  lives  in 
your  town?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  answered  Bob,  in  surprise;  "Aaron  Wol- 
verton." 

"Exactly.  This  young  man,"  indicating  Sam, 
"has  the  Wolverton  look." 

Now  it  was  Sam's  turn  to  be  surprised. 

"I  am  Sam  Wolverton,"  he  said.  "Do  you 
know  my  uncle?" 

"I  not  only  know  him,  but  I  knew  your  father,  if 
you  are  the  son  of  John  Wolverton." 

"That  was  my  father's  name." 

"Then  I  am  a  relative.  My  name  is  Robert 
Granger,  and  I  am  a  cousin  of  your  mother." 

"My  mother's  maiden- name  was  Granger,"  said 
Sam,  becoming  very  much  interested.  "Do  you  live 
here,  sir?" 

"Yes;  I  have  lived  in  Sheldon  for  the  last  ten 
years.  I  came  from  Ohio  originally.  It  was  there 
that  your  father  met  my  cousin  Fanny,  and  married 
her.     Do  you  live  with  your  Uncle  Aaron?" 

"I  have  been  living  with  him,"  answered  Sam, 
hesitating. 

"Does  that  mean  that  you  have  left  him?"  asked 
Mr.  Granger,  quickly. 

Sam  looked  inquiringly  at  Bob.  He  hardly  knew 
whether  it  would  be  advisable  for  him  to  take  this 
stranger,  relation  though  he  were,  into  his  confi- 
dence. 


BOB  BURTON  195 

Bob  answered  his  unspoken  inquiry. 

"Tell  him  all,  Sam." 

"I  have  left  my  Uncle  Aaron,"  said  Sam,  "with- 
out his  consent.  I  hid  on  board  Bob's  boat,  and  got 
away." 

"You  have  run  away,  then?" 

"Yes,  sir;  you  may  blame  me  for  doing  so,  but 
you  would  not  if  you  knew  how  meanly  Uncle 
Aaron  has  treated  me  !" 

"I  know  Aaron  Wolverton,  and  I  am  far  from 
admiring  him,"  said  Robert  Granger.  "But  in 
what  way  has  he  ill-treated  you?" 

"He  made  me  work  very  hard,  and  would  not 
always  give  me  enough  to  eat.  He  keeps  a  very 
plain  table." 

"But  why  should  he  make  you  work  hard?" 

"He  said  I  ought  to  earn  my  living." 

"Did  he  say  that?" 

"Yes,  whenever  I  complained.  He  asked  me 
what  would  have  become  of  me  if  he  had  not  given 
me  a  home." 

"The  old  hypocrite !  And  what  has  he  done  with 
your  property?" 

"My  property!"  repeated  Sam,  hardly  believing 
his  ears. 

"Yes.  Of  course  you  know  that  you  have  prop- 
erty, and  that  your  Uncle  Aaron  is  your  guardian  ?" 

"I  never  knew  that  I  had  a  cent  of  money,  sir. 
Uncle  always  said  that  my  father  died  very  poor  !'* 


196  BOB  BURTON 

"Your  father,  to  my  knowledge,  left  property 
to  the  amount  of  five  thousand  dollars." 

"That  is  all  news  to  me,  Mr.  Granger." 

"And  to  me,"  added  Bob.  "I  heard  Mr.  Wol- 
verton  tell  my  father  the  same  story,  that  John 
Wolverton  died  without  a  cent,  and  that  he  had 
taken  in  Sam  out  of  charity. 

"He  seems  to  have  taken  him  in,  emphatically." 

"In  what  did  the  property  consist?"  asked  Bob. 

"In  a  house,  situated  in  St.  Louis — a  small  house 
in  the  outskirts  of  the  city — and  some  shares  of 
bank  stock." 

"He  thought  Sam  would  never  find  out  anything 
of  it." 

"I  should  not,  if  I  had  not  met  you,  Mr. 
Granger." 

"Old  Aaron  Wolverton  is  a  long-headed  man; 
but  even  long-headed  men  sometimes  overreach 
themselves,  and  I  think  he  has  done  so  in  this  in- 
stance." 

"But  what  can  I  do,  sir?  I  am  only  a  boy,  and 
if  I  should  say  anything  about  the  matter  to  Uncle 
Aaron  he  would  deny  it,  and  perhaps  treat  me  the 
worse?" 

"There  is  one  thing  Aaron  Wolverton  is  afraid 
of,  and  that  is  the  law.  He  doesn't  care  for  the 
honesty  or  dishonesty  of  a  transaction,  but  he 
doesn't  mean  to  let  the  law  trip  him  up.  That  is 
the  hold  we  shall  have  upon  him." 


BOB  BURTON  197 

"I  believe  you  there,"  said  Bob.  "He  has  al- 
ready tried  to  swindle  my  mother,  and  he  is  schem- 
ing now  to  get  possession  of  our  ranch.  It  is  partly 
on  that  account  that  I  started  on  this  trip  down  the 
river." 

"Do  you  carry  freight,  then?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  carry  a  thousand  bushels  of  wheat 
— rather  more,  in  fact — intending  to  sell  it  in 
St.  Louis." 

"Couldn't  you  have  sent  it?" 

"Yes,  sir;  but  by  taking  the  wheat  to  market  my- 
self I  shall  save  the  heavy  expense  of  freight,  and 
commission  for  selling." 

"You  seem  to  be  a  smart  boy,"  said  Robert 
Granger,  eying  Bob  with  interest. 

"I  hope  you  are  right,"  Bob  answered,  with  a 
laugh. 

"My  young  cousin  accompanies  you  to  help,  I 
suppose?" 

"He  came  on  board  at  the  last  moment,  having 
determined  to  run  away  from  Aaron  Wolverton." 

"I  wish  you  could  spare  him;  I  should  like  to 
take  him  home  to  talk  over  family  matters  with 
myself  and  my  lawyer,  and  we  would  concert  some 
way  of  forcing  Aaron  Wolverton  to  give  up  his 
property.  I  have  some  children  of  my  own  who 
would  be  glad  to  make  his  acquaintance." 

"Would  you  like  to  accept  Mr.  Granger's  invi* 
tation,  Sam?"  asked  Bob. 


i98  BOB  BURTON 

"But  I  am  afraid  you  will  need  me,  Bob." 

"No;  I  have  Clip.  I  think  it  will  be  well  for 
you  to  stay.    I  will  call  on  my  way  back." 

So  it  was  arranged  that  Sam  should  leave  the 
boat  and  stay  over.  Bob  returned  to  the  boat 
alone. 

The  next  day  proved  to  be  an  eventful  one. 


BOB  BURTON  199 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

ROCKY     CREEK     LANDING 

Twenty  miles  further  down  the  river,  at  a 
point  called  Rocky  Creek,  two  men  of  questionable 
appearance  were  walking  slowly  along  the  bank. 
One  of  them  has  been  already  introduced  as  visit- 
ing the  boat  and  displaying  a  great  deal  of  curiosity 
about  the  cargo.  The  other,  also,  had  the  look 
of  one  who  preferred  to  live  in  any  other  way  than 
by  honest  industry. 

"Suppose  the  boy  doesn't  touch  here?"  said  one. 

"Our  plan  would  in  that  case  be  put  out,"  said 
his  companion;  "but  I  don't  think  there  is  any 
doubt  on  that  point.  Last  night  he  was  at  Sheldon, 
and  this  would  naturally  be  the  next  stopping 
place." 

"He  is  drawing  near  the  end  of  his  cruise.  It 
won't  do  to  delay  much  longer." 

"You  are  right  there." 

"I  wasn't  in  favor  of  delaying  so  long.  We 
have  risked  failure." 

"Don't  worry,  Minton.  I'm  managing  this  af- 
fair.   I've  got  just  as  much  at  stake  as  you." 


200  BOB   BURTON 

"If  it  all  comes  out  right,  I  shall  be  satisfied; 
but  I  need  the  money  I  am  to  get  for  it  from  old 
Wolverton." 

"That's  a  trifle.  I'm  playing  for  a  larger  stake 
than  that." 

"What,  then?" 

"The  paltry  fifty  dollars  divided  between  two 
would  not  have  tempted  me.  Do  you  know,  Min- 
ton,  how  large  and  valuable  a  cargo  there  is  on 
that  old  ferryboat?" 

"No;  do  you?" 

"Not  exactly;  but  I  know  this  much,  that  there 
are  at  least  a  thousand  bushels  of  wheat,  which 
will  easily  fetch,  in  St.  Louis,  two  thousand 
dollars." 

"How  will  that  benefit  us?" 

"You  seem  to  be  very  dull,  Minton.  When  we 
have  once  shut  up  young  Burton  in  the  place  ar- 
ranged, you  and  I  will  take  his  place,  drift  down 
the  river,  and  dispose  of  the  cargo,  if  necessary, 
at  a  point  below  the  market  price,  and  retire  with 
a  cool  thousand  apiece." 

"You've  got  a  head,  Brown,"  said  Minton,  ad- 
miringly. 

"Have  you  just  found  that  out?"  returned 
Brown,  complacently. 

"Do  you  really  think  there  is  a  chance  of  our 
succeeding?" 

"Yes;  of  course  we  must  be  expeditious.     Two 


BOB  BURTON  201 

or  three  days,  now,  ought  to  carry  us  to  St.  Louis. 
Then,  by  selling  below  the  market  price,  we  can 
command  an  immediate  sale.  Then,  of  course,  we 
will  clear  out;  go  to  California,  Europe,  or 
Canada." 

"But  we  must  get  Wolverton's  money." 

"If  we  can  without  risk.  It  won't  be  worth 
that." 

"I  don't  like  the  idea  of  the  old  man  escaping 
scot-free." 

"He  won't;  you  may  be  sure  of  that,"  said 
Brown,  significantly.  "He  has  placed  himself  in 
our  power,  and  we  will  get  a  good  deal  more  than 
fifty  dollars  out  of  him  before  we  get  through,  or 
my  name  isn't  Brown." 

"What  a  head  you've  got!"  repeated  Minton, 
with  cordial  admiration  of  the  sharper  rascal. 

"Then  there's  the  other  affair,  too,"  said  Brown. 
"We  are  safe  to  make  a  good  round  sum  out  of 
that" 

"Yes;  but  how  can  we  look  after  the  other?  It 
won't  be  safe  for  us  to  remain  anywhere  in  this 
locality  if  we  sell  the  cargo." 

"Leave  that  to  me,  Minton.  I  will  get  Joe 
Springer  to  negotiate  for  us." 

By  this  time  the  reader  will  have  guessed  that 
these  two  men  were  those  already  referred  to  as 
having  stopped  Wolverton  on  the  night  preceding 
Bob's  departure.     The  arrangement  then   made, 


202  BOB  BURTON 

Brown  had  improved  upon.  He  had  engaged  to 
remove  the  boys  from  the  boat  and  set  it  adrift. 
But  it  had  occurred  to  him,  after  ascertaining  the 
value  of  the  cargo,  to  sell  it  for  the  joint  benefit 
of  his  confederate  and  himself.  It  was  the  most 
promising  job  he  had  undertaken  for  a  long  time, 
and  he  was  sanguine  of  ultimate  success.  He  had 
followed  the  boat  down  the  river,  and  had  finally 
selected  Rocky  Creek  as  the  point  most  favorable 
to  the  carrying  out  of  his  design. 

Meanwhile  Bob  and  Clip  were  on  their  way 
down  the  river.  Sam,  as  already  described,  had 
left  them  at  Sheldon,  and  was  enjoying  himself 
as  the  guest  of  Capt.  Granger,  as  he  found  his 
kinsman  was  called.  Bob  missed  him,  not  finding 
Clip,  though  improved,  as  reliable  as  Sam.  But 
he  was  drawing  near  the  end  of  his  voyage  and 
was  willing  to  make  the  sacrifice,  since  it  seemed 
to  be  so  favorable  to  Sam's  prospects.  The  in- 
formation which  had  been  communicated  to  them 
touching  Aaron  Wolverton's  breach  of  trust  did 
not,  on  the  whole,  surprise  him,  except  by  its  au- 
dacity; for  Wolverton  had  thus  far  been  careful 
not  to  place  himself  within  the  reach  of  the  law 
and  its  penalties.  He  was  delighted  to  think  Sam 
had  found  a  new  friend  and  protector,  who  would 
compel  the  unfaithful  guardian  to  account  for  his 
dishonesty. 

Clip  heartily  sympathized  with  Bob  in  his  feel- 


BOB  BURTON  203 

ing  upon  the  subject.  He  liked  Sam,  but  disliked 
Wolverton  as  much  as  one  of  his  easy,  careless  dis- 
position was  capable  of  doing. 

"It  seems  lonely  without  Sam,"  said  Bob,  while 
standing  at  the  helm,  with  Clip  sitting  on  deck 
whistling  just  beside  him. 

"Dat's  so,  Massa  Bob." 

"But  I  am  glad  he  has  found  a  relation  who 
will  help  him  to  get  his  money." 

"I'd  like  to  see  ol'  man  Wolverton  when  Sam 
come  back  with  Massa  Granger." 

"Probably  you  will  have  a  chance  to  see  him. 
If  he  hadn't  driven  Sam  away  by  his  bad  treat- 
ment he  would  never  have  found  out  how  he  had 
been  cheated." 

"Dat's  so,  Massa  Bob.  I'd  like  to  be  in  Sam's 
shoes." 

"You'd  have  to  make  your  feet  smaller,  then, 
Clip." 

"Yah!  yah!"  laughed  Clip,  who  enjoyed  a  joke 
at  his  own  expense. 

Bob  found  his  work  harder,  now  that  Sam  was 
not  on  board  to  relieve  him  of  part  of  his  duty. 
But  they  were  making  good  speed,  and  there 
seemed  a  chance  of  reaching  St.  Louis  within  three 
days.  All  was  going  well,  yet  an  indefinable  anx- 
iety troubled  Bob.    Why,  he  could  not  explain. 

"Clip,"  he  said,  "I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but 
I  feel  as  if  something  was  going  to  happen." 


2o4  BOB   BURTON 

"What  can  happen,  Massa  Bob?  De  boat  is 
all  right." 

"True,  Clip.  I  suppose  I  am  foolish,  but  I 
can't  get  rid  of  the  feeling.  Clip,  I  want  you  to 
be  very  careful  to-night.  Don't  let  any  mysterious 
passenger  come  on  board." 

"No,  Massa  Bob.     I  won't  do  dat  ag'in." 

"We  shall  soon  be  in  St.  Louis,  and  then  our 
care  and  anxiety  will  be  over." 

"Where  will  we  stop   to-night?" 

"At  Rocky  Creek." 

It  was  a  quarter  to  five  when  Bob  reached  the 
place  where  he  had  decided  to  tie  up.  There  was 
a  village  of  about  five  hundred  inhabitants  situated 
a  little  distance  from  the  riverside.  A  small  knot 
of  loungers  was  gathered  at  the  landing,  and  with 
languid  interest  surveyed  the  river  craft  and  the 
young  crew. 

Among  them  Bob  recognized  the  man  who  had 
visited  them  two  or  three  stations  back.  He  knew 
him  by  his  dress — the  Prince  Albert  coat,  the  dam- 
aged hat,  and  the  loud  necktie.  But  apart  from 
these  be  remembered  the  face,  dark  and  unshaven, 
and  the  shifty  black  eyes,  which  naturally  inspired 
distrust.  The  man  made  no  movement  toward  the 
boat,  but  leaned  indolently  against  a  tree. 

"Clip,"  said  Bob,  quietly,  "look  at  that  man 
leaning  against  a  tree." 

"I  see  him,  Massa  Bob." 


BOB  BURTON  205 

"Have  you  ever  seen  him  before  ?" 

"Yes,  Massa  Bob;  he  came  aboard  de  boat  one 
day." 

"I  thought  I  couldn't  be  mistaken.  I  wonder 
how  he  comes  to  be  here?  Can  he  be  follow- 
ing us?" 

It  was  too  hard  a  problem  for  Clip,  who  only 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Just  then  another  man  from  the  assembled 
group  lounged  on  board.     It  was  Minton. 

"Boat  ahoy!"  he  said  jauntily.  "Are  you  the 
captain?" 

"I'm  all  the  captain  there  is,"  answered  Bob. 

"Have  you  any  wheat  to  sell?  I  am  a  grain 
merchant?" 

He  looked  more  like  a  penniless  adventurer,  Bob 
thought. 

"I  have  no  wheat  to  sell  here,"  said  Bob,  coldly. 
"I  am  on  my  way  to  St.  Louis." 

"Perhaps  I  can  do  as  well  by  you  as  the  grain 
merchants  in  St.  Louis." 

"I  don't  care  to  sell  here,"  said  Bob,  shortly. 

"No  offense,  young  man !  I  suppose  a  man  can 
make  an  offer?" 

"Certainly,  sir." 

But  the  stranger  did  not  leave  the  boat.  He 
walked  about,  scrutinizing  the  arrangements  care- 
fully. 

"You've  got  a  pretty  big  cargo,  boy,"  he  said. 


206  BOB  BURTON 

"Yes,  sir." 

"How  many  bushels  now,  about?" 

"Why  do  you  wish  to  know?"  said  Bob, 
eying  the  stranger  keenly. 

"I  thought  I  might  like  to  load  a  boat  like  this 
some  time,  and  it  might  be  of  use  to  know  how 
much  it  would  carry." 

"Do  you  live  in  Rocky  Creek?"  asked  Bob, 
suddenly. 

"Ye-as." 

"May  I  ask  your  name?" 

"Smith — James  Smith,"  answered  the  other, 
with  hesitation. 

"Very  well;  when  I  have  sold  my  cargo  I  will 
write  you  the  number  of  bushels  the  boat  contains." 

"Thank  you." 

"Decidedly,  the  boy  is  sharp,"  said  Minton  to 
himself.    "He's  no  milk-and-water  boy !" 

He  left  the  boat,  and  presently  joined  his  friend 
Brown. 


BOB  BURTON  207 


CHAPTER    XXX 

AN     UNLUCKY     EVENING 

Bob  was  still  in  the  habit  of  getting  his  supper, 
and  breakfast  the  next  morning,  at  the  different 
points  where  he  landed.  He  left  Clip  on  board, 
in  charge  of  the  boat,  while  he  sought  a  good  place 
to  obtain  a  meal.  He  found  that  Rocky  Creek 
possessed  but  one  hotel,  and  that  of  a  very  modest 
character,  bearing  the  rather  imposing  name  of  the 
Metropolitan  Hotel. 

Fie  registered  his  name,  and  intimated  his  de- 
sire for  supper. 

"Supper  is  on  the  table,"  said  the  clerk. 

Bob  entered  the  dining-room,  a  forlorn-looking 
room  of  small  dimensions,  containing  a  long  table, 
at  which  sat  two  persons,  a  drummer  from  St. 
Louis,  and  an  old  man  with  a  gray  beard,  who  kept 
the  principal  dry-goods  store  in  Rocky  Creek. 

Bob  was  assigned  to  a  place  between  the  two. 

"Good  evening,"  said  the  drummer,  sociably. 

"Good  evening,"  responded  Bob. 

"Are  you  a  regular  boarder?" 


208  BOB  BURTON 

"Oh,  no;  I  was  never  in  the  place  before." 

"How  did  you  come?" 

"By  the  river." 

"Indeed!"  said  the  drummer,  puzzled.  "Has 
any  steamer  touched  here  to-day?" 

"No;  I  came  on  my  own  boat." 

"Bound  down  the  river?" 

"Yes." 

"Business,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes;  I  have  a  load  of  wheat  which  I  propose 
to  sell  in  the  city." 

"What  house  shall  you  deal  with?" 

"I  don't  know;  I'm  not  acquainted  in  St.  Louis. 
I  shall  inquire  when  I  get  there." 

"Then  let  me  recommend  you  to  Pearson  & 
Edge.    They  will  treat  you  liberally." 

"Thank  you.  I  will  call  on  them  and  see  what 
I  can  do." 

"Present  my  card,  if  you  please,  and  say  I  sent 
you  there." 

The  drummer  produced  his  card  and  handed  it 
to  Bob.  From  this  our  hero  learned  that  his  com- 
panion was  Benjamin  Baker,  traveling  for  Dun- 
ham &  Co.,  wholesale  grocers. 

"Shall  you  stay  at  the  hotel  this  evening?"  asked 
Baker. 

"No;  I  shall  pass  the  night  on  my  boat." 

"How  many  have  you  on  board?" 


BOB  BURTON  209 

"Only  myself  and  a  colored  boy  from  home — ■ 
Clip." 

"Isn't  that  a  rather  small  crew?" 

"Perhaps  so;  but  we  haven't  much  to  do,  ex- 
cept to  let  the  boat  drift,  keeping  her  straight  mean- 
while." 

"By  the  way;  speaking  of  Pearson,  senior  mem- 
ber of  the  firm  I  have  recommended,  he  is  in  great 
trouble  just  now." 

"How  is  that?" 

"He  had  a  very  pretty  little  girl  of  about  six 
years  old — little  Maud.  Two  or  three  days  since, 
as  I  hear  from  a  friend  in  the  city,  the  little  girl 
mysteriously  disappeared." 

"Disappeared?" 

"Just  so.  Her  parents  think  she  must  have  been 
kidnapped,  as  a  suspicious-looking  person  had  been 
noticed  by  the  nurse  hovering  near  when  they  were 
out  walking  together." 

"They  must  be  in  great  trouble  and  anxiety," 
said  Bob,  in  a  tone  of  sympathy,  "if  they  believe 
this." 

"They  would  be  glad  to  believe  it,  for  in  that 
case  the  little  girl  is  alive,  while  otherwise  she  may 
have  strayed  to  the  river  and  been  drowned.  Mr. 
Pearson,  who  is  wealthy,  has  offered  a  reward  of 
one  thousand  dollars  to  any  one  who  will  restore 
his  little  girl  to  him." 

As  they  sat  at  table,  Bob  noticed  through  the 


210  BOB  BURTON 

window  the  man  Minton,  who  had  called  upon  him 
on  the  arrival  of  the  boat. 

"Do  you  know  that  man,  Mr.  Baker?"  he  asked, 
suddenly. 

The  drummer  shook  his  head. 

"I  am  a  stranger,  too,"  he  said.  "But  perhaps 
this  gentleman,  who  is  in  business  in  Rocky  Creek, 
may  be  able  to  give  you  some  information." 

Thus  appealed  to,  the  old  gentleman  looked 
from  the  window. 

"It  isn't  any  one  I  know,"  he  replied.  "Why  do 
you  ask?" 

"Because  he  called  upon  me  on  my  arrival,  rep- 
resenting himself  as  a  grain  merchant,  and  pro- 
posed to  buy  my  cargo." 

The  old  man  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"He  looks  more  like  a  tramp  than  a  grain 
merchant,"  he  said. 

"I  agree  with  you,"  assented  Bob,  with  a  laugh. 

"Did  he  mention  his  name?" 

"He  called  himself  James  Smith;  but,  as  he  an- 
swered my  questions  in  a  hesitating  manner,  I  con- 
cluded it  was  an  assumed  name." 

"Very  likely." 

"Then  he  doesn't  live  in  the  village?" 

"No;  but  he  has  been  here  for  a  day  or  two." 

"I  wonder  what  could  have  been  his  object  in 
representing  himself  to  me  as  a  grain  merchant?" 
said  Bob,  thoughtfully. 


BOB  BURTON  211 

"Oh,"  answered  the  drummer,  "he  probably 
wanted  to  strike  up  an  acquaintance  which  would 
justify  him  in  borrowing  a  few  dollars  of  you.  I 
have  met  plenty  of  such  characters.  They  live  by 
what  they  can  borrow." 

When  supper  was  over  Bob  and  the  drummer 
rose  together. 

"Won't  you  have  a  cigar,  Mr.  Burton?"  asked 
the  latter. 

"No,  thank  you;  I  don't  smoke." 

"Oh,  well,  you'll  learn  after  a  while.  At  any 
rate,  sit  down  and  keep  me  company  for  a  while." 

"Thank  you,  but  I  shall  have  to  go  back  to  the 
boat  and  give  Clip  a  chance  to  get  his  supper." 

Clip  returned  from  supper  at  half-past  seven, 
and  Bob,  feeling  wide-awake,  decided  to  go  on 
shore  again.  He  did  not  care  to  go  to  the  hotel, 
but  took  a  leisurely  walk  through  the  village  and 
beyond.  It  was  an  unfortunate  walk,  for  it  made 
him  an  easy  prey  to  the  men  who  were  scheming 
against  him.  In  a  lonely  place  two  men  sprang 
upon  him  suddenly,  and  before  he  could  understand 
what  was  going  on  he  was  gagged  and  helpless.  In 
this  condition  the  two  men,  taking  him  between 
them,  hurried  him  to  a  lonely  house  at  some  dis- 
tance from  the  road. 

Bob  Burton  was  brave,  but  this  sudden  and  mys- 
terious attack  startled  and  alarmed  him  not  a  little. 


212  BOB  BURTON 

He  would  have  expostulated,  but  was  unable,  from 
being  gagged,  to  utter  a  word. 

Reaching  the  house,  a  short,  sharp  knock  at 
the  door  was  answered  by  a  rough-looking  man, 
dressed  in  a  suit  of  faded  and  shabby  cloth. 

"So  you've  got  him !"  was  his  laconic  greeting. 

"Yes,  Joe!     Now,  where  shall  we  put  him?" 

"Come  upstairs." 

The  two  men  sat  Bob  down,  and  pushed  him 
forward,  and  up  a  staircase,  steep  and  dark.  He 
was  thrust  into  a  room  with  a  sloping  roof,  and  the 
gag  was  removed  from  his  mouth. 

"What  does  all  this  mean?"  he  asked,  angrily 
turning  to  the  two  men,  whom  he  recognized  by  the 
light  of  the  lantern  which  Joe  Springer  carried  in 
his  hand. 

"It's  all  right,  my  lad,"  said  Brown.  "All 
you've  got  to  do  is  to  keep  quiet,  and  no  harm 
will  come  to  you." 

"How  long  do  you  mean  to  keep  me  here?" 
asked  Bob,  with  a  feeling  of  despair  in  his  heart. 
He  suspected  now  what  it  all  meant. 

"Two  weeks,  perhaps ;  but  you  will  be  well  taken 
care  of." 

The  men  went  out,  leaving  the  lantern  behind 
them.  Bob  heard  the  bolt  shot  in  the  lock.  He 
looked  around  him.  There  was  a  low  pallet  in  the 
corner.  He  threw  himself  on  it,  and,  brave  boy 
as  he  was,  came  near  shedding  tears. 


BOB  BURTON  213 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

HOW  CLIP  WAS  CAPTURED 

Everything  had  gone  well  with  Bob  so  far,  and 
he  was  looking  forward  hopefully  to  the  end  of 
his  journey,  and  the  final  success  of  the  expedition. 
Now  all  was  changed.  He  was  a  prisoner,  and 
though  Clip  was  on  board  the  boat,  he  was  utterly 
incompetent  to  take  the  place  of  his  master.  Bob 
hardly  dared  trust  himself  to  think  of  the  future. 
He  knew  not  what  would  become  of  his  valuable 
cargo,  but  that  it  was  lost  to  him  seemed  probable. 
This  meant  utter  ruin,  for  he  and  his  mother  would 
have  nothing  to  live  upon  until  the  next  harvest, 
and  meanwhile  Aaron  Wolverton  would  foreclose 
the  mortgage.  Certainly,  Bob  had  reason  to  shed 
tears;  and  could  not  be  charged  with  being  un- 
manly if  for  a  time  he  gave  up  to  a  feeling  of 
despondency  and  almost  despair. 

Leaving  him  for  an  hour,  we  will  accompany 
the  two  conspirators  on  their  return  to  the  boat. 

Clip  was  on  deck,  anxiously  watching  for  the 
return  of  Bob.  He  was  beginning  to  feel  a  little 
troubled. 


2i4  BOB  BURTON 

"Can't  think  what's  'come  of  Massa  Bob,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "He  said  he'd  be  back  in  fifteen 
minutes.  If  anything's  happened  to  him,  what'll 
'come  of  Clip?" 

Instead  of  fifteen  minutes,  an  hour  passed,  and 
still  Bob  had  not  returned.  Clip  was  seriously 
thinking  of  going  on  shore  and  looking  for  him, 
when  two  men  came  to  the  river  bank. 

"Hello!"  they  said.     "Are  you  Clip?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Clip,  in  some  surprise,  not  un- 
derstanding how  these  two  strangers  could  know 
his  name. 

"You  are  sailing  with  Robert  Burton?" 

"Yes,  massa." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Gone  on  shore  for  a  walk.  Did  you  see  him 
anywhere?" 

"Yes;  we  come  from  him." 

"Why  don't  he  come  himself?" 

"The  poor  fellow  has  met  with  an  accident.  He 
has  broken  his  leg." 

"Massa  Bob  broken  his  leg!"  ejaculated  Clip, 
turning  as  pale  as  his  complexion  would  admit. 
"How  came  he  to  do  dat?" 

"I  can't  explain,"  said  Brown.  "My  friend  and 
I  came  up  just  after  it  happened,  and  we  took  him 
to  a  house  near-by,  where  he  was  put  to  bed.  He 
asked  us  to  come  for  you  and  bring  you  to  him." 

"Yes,  massa;  I'll  go  right  off,"  said  Clip,  with 


BOB  BURTON  215 

alacrity.  Then  he  hesitated  at  the  thought  of  leav- 
ing the  boat.  "What'll  I  do  about  de  boat?"  he 
asked,  in  perplexity. 

"Pooh!  no  one  will  run  off  with  it.  Probably 
your  friend  will  want  to  be  brought  on  board;  we 
will  help  to  bring  him.  Meanwhile  I  will  stay 
here  and  look  after  things,  and  my  friend  will  take 
you  to  Massa  Bob,  as  you  call  him." 

Clip  saw  no  objection  to  this  plan.  He  was  too 
simple-minded  to  suspect  a  trick,  and  being  very 
much  attached  to  his  young  master,  he  was  anxious 
to  be  taken  to  him. 

He  put  on  his  hat  and  expressed  himself  ready 
to  go. 

"Very  well,  Minton;  show  him  the  house  and 
see  if  the  boy  is  fit  to  be  moved." 

Clip  did  not  see  the  wink  that  accompanied  the 
last  words. 

The  two  started  on  their  journey.  Clip,  though 
the  smaller,  walked  so  fast  that  Minton  was 
obliged  to  quicken  his  pace.  He  plied  Minton  with 
questions  until  the  latter  was  tired. 

"I  can't  tell  you  much  about  it,"  said  the  man, 
at  length.  "My  friend  and  I  saw  young  Burton 
lying  on  the  side  of  the  road.  He  was  groaning 
with  pain.  We  took  him  up  and  carried  him  to  a 
house  close  by." 

"He  won't  die?"  faltered  Clip,  in  a  tone  of  anx- 
ious inquiry. 


216  BOB  BURTON 

"Oh,  no!  He's  as  safe  to  live  as  you  or  I.  A 
broken  leg  doesn't  amount  to  much." 

"I  don'  see  why  he  lef  the  boat,"  said  Clip, 
mournfully. 

"Well,  accidents  will  happen,"  said  Minton, 
philosophically. 

"Do  you  think  we  can  get  him  on  de  boat, 
massa?" 

"Oh,  yes.  I  have  no  doubt  of  it.  You  needn't 
feel  worried.     It'll  all  come  right." 

Clip,  however,  felt  that  there  was  sufficient 
reason  for  feeling  troubled. 

He  was  rather  surprised  at  the  length  of  the 
walk. 

"What  made  Massa  Bob  go  so  far?"  he  asked. 

"He  said  he  was  just  exploring  a  little — wanted 
to  see  the  country,  you  know." 

"He  couldn't  see  much  in  de  dark." 

"Well,  he  will  explain  the  matter  to  you;  I 
can't." 

At  length  they  reached  the  lonely  house. 

"This  is  where  your  friend  was  carried,"  said 
Minton. 

Clip  thought  it  was  a  gloomy  place,  but  his  mind 
was  now  so  occupied  with  thoughts  of  Bob,  whom 
he  was  to  see  immediately,  that  he  said  nothing. 

Minton  knocked  at  the  door. 

It  was  opened  by  Joe  Springer,  whose  appear- 
ance rather  frightened  Clip. 


BOB  BURTON  217 

"Oh,  so  you  are  back,"  said  Springer.  "Who 
is  this?" 

"It's  a  friend  of  the  boy  with  the  broken  leg," 
answered  Minton,  with  a  significant  look. 

"Ho,  ho!"  laughed  Joe,  to  Clip's  surprise.  He 
could  not  understand  what  there  was  to  laugh  at. 

"I  hope  the  poor  boy's  more  comfortable,"  said 
Minton. 

"I  reckon  so,"  answered  Joe,  with  another  grin. 

"Has  he  been  quiet?" 

"Yes,  he  hasn't  made  any  noise;  but  he's  been 
walking  around  the  room." 

"Walkin'  'round  wid  a  broken  leg!"  repeated 
Clip,  amazed. 

"What  a  fool  you  are,  Joe!"  exclaimed  Minton, 
in  a  vexed  tone.  "How  could  he  walk  around 
with  a  broken  leg?" 

"I  only  meant  it  for  a  joke,"  said  Joe,  in  a  half- 
sullen  tone.  "How  did  I  know  his  leg  was 
broken?" 

"My  friend,  here,  was  not  in  when  we  brought 
the  boy,"  said  Minton,  in  an  aside  to  Clip.  "Now, 
Joe,  we'll  go  upstairs.  Clip,  here,  has  come  to 
keep  his  friend  company." 

"I  hope  he'll  like  it,"  returned  Joe,  with  an- 
other incomprehensible  grin. 

"Well,  get  a  light  and  show  us  upstairs." 

Clip  thought  the  house  far  from  pleasant. 

He  had  just  started  to  go  upstairs,  when  a  little 


218  BOB  BURTON 

girl  ran  crying  through  the  door  of  the  adjoining 
room. 

"I  want  to  go  home,"  she  cried.  "I  want  to  go 
to  my  papa." 

She  was  followed  by  a  tall,  gaunt  woman,  who 
seized  the  child  in  her  bony  grasp. 

"You're  a  very  naughty  girl,"  she  said.  "Your 
papa  sent  you  to  stay  with  me." 

"No,  he  didn't.     My  papa  doesn't  know  you." 

"If  you  talk  like  that  I'll  give  you  a  whipping. 
I  am  your  aunt — your  father's  sister." 

"No,  you're  not.  I  wouldn't  have  such  an  ugly 
aunt." 

"Of  all  the  perverse  imps,  this  'ere  one  is  the 
most  cantankerous  I  ever  see,"  said  the  woman. 

"I  should  think  you'd  ought  to  be  able  to  man- 
age a  little  girl,"  said  Joe,  roughly. 

"So  I  be.  There's  only  one  way  of  managin' 
one  like  her.  I've  got  a  strap  in  the  other  room, 
and  she'll  feel  it  if  she  keeps  on." 

Clip  followed  Minton  up  the  steep,  narrow  stair- 
case, and  the  two  paused  before  the  door  of  the 
chamber  occupied  by  Bob  Burton. 

"He  is  in  here,"  said  Minton,  briefly. 

He  opened  the  door,  and  by  the  faint  light  of 
the  lantern  Clip  recognized  the  figure  of  a  boy 
stretched  out  on  a  pallet  in  the  corner. 

Bob  looked  up,  and  when  he  saw  Clip  he  sprang 
to  his  feet. 


BOB  BURTON  219 

"You  here,  Clip?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  Massa  Bob.  Which  of  your  legs  is 
broke?" 

"My  legs  broke?     Neither." 

"The  man  told  me  you  broke  you'  leg,"  said 
Clip,  bewildered. 

He  turned  to  appeal  to  Minton  for  a  confirma- 
tion of  his  words,  but  the  door  was  shut,  and  his 
conductor  was  already  on  the  way  downstairs. 


220  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE      BOYS      IMPRISONED 

"Now  sit  down  and  tell  me  all  about  it,  Clip," 
said  Bob.  "So  you  were  told  my  leg  was  broke? 
Who  told  you?" 

"De  two  men." 

"I  think  I  know  the  two  men.  One  of  them 
brought  you  here.    Where  is  the  other?" 

"He  stayed  on  boardthe  boat  till  we  come  back." 

"Was  there  anything  said  about  our  going 
back?"  asked  Bob,  in  surprise. 

"Yes,  Massa  Bob.  Dey  said  you'  leg  was  broke, 
and  you  wanted  me  to  come  to  you.  De  man  said 
we  would  take  you  back  with  us." 

"Clip,"  said  Bob,  sadly,  "these  men  deceived 
you.     We  are  in  a  trap." 

"What's  dat?" 

"They  have  made  us  prisoners,  and  I  don't  dare 
to  think  what  they  will  do  next." 

"Dey  won't  'sassinate  us?"  asked  Clip,  who  had 
picked  up  the  word  somewhere. 

"No;  but  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think  they'll  do. 


BOB  BURTON  221 

They  will  take  the  boat  down  the  river,  sell  the 
grain  in  St.  Louis,  and  run  oft  with  the  money." 

This  was  the  conclusion  to  which  Bob  was  led 
by  Clip's  story. 

"We  won't  let  'em,  Massa  Bob,"  said  Clip,  in 
excitement. 

"How  shall  we  help  it,  Clip?" 

"We  must  get  out,  and  runaway." 

"I  wish  I  knew  how,"  said  Bob. 

"If  we  can  get  out,  we'll  take  a  boat  to  the  city, 
and  git  there  ahead  of  'em." 

Somehow,  Clip's  words  seemed  to  reassure  Bob. 
Misery  loves  company,  and  the  presence  of  his 
trusty  friend  and  servant  perceptibly  lightened 
Bob's  spirits. 

"You  are  right,  Clip,"  he  said.  "To-morrow 
we  will  see  what  we  can  do.  We  can't  do  anything 
to-night." 

"Who  is  de  little  girl,  Massa  Bob?"  asked  Clip, 
suddenly. 

"What  little  girl?" 

"Haven't  you  seen  her?  De  little  girl  down- 
stairs." 

"I  haven't  seen  her.    Tell  me  about  her." 

Clip  described  her  as  well  as  he  could,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  conveying  to  Bob  a  general  idea  of  her 
appearance,  and  that  of  the  woman  who  had  charge 
of  her. 

Bob  listened  thoughtfully. 


222  BOB  BURTON 

"You  don't  think  the  little  girl  was  any  relation 
to  the  woman,  Clip?"  he  said. 

"No,  Massa  Bob;  no  more'n  you  is  relation  to 
me.  De  girl  was  a  little  lady,  and  de  woman  was 
awful  ugly." 

"Did  the  little  girl  say  anything  in  your 
hearing?" 

"She  asked  to  be  taken  back  to  her  fader?" 

Suddenly  there  came  into  Bob's  mind  the  story 
about  a  little  girl  abducted  from  St.  Louis. 

"Clip,"  he  said,  "I  think  that  little  girl  has  been 
stolen  from  her  home.  I  think  she  is  the  same  one 
we  heard  about  the  other  day." 

"I  pity  de  poor  girl.  De  ol'  woman  shook  her, 
and  treated  her  bad." 

"If  we  could  only  run  away  from  this  place,  and 
take  the  little  girl  with  us,  it  would  be  a  capital 
idea.  I  would  like  to  get  her  away  from  these 
*vretches." 

"I'm  wid  you,  Massa  Bob,"  said  Clip,  en- 
thusiastically. 

"Hush !"  said  Bob,  suddenly  raising  his  finger. 

A  little  girl's  voice  was  heard,  and  it  was  easy 
to  judge  that  she  was  ascending  the  stairs. 

Bob  put  his  ear  to  the  keyhole. 

"Take  me  home  to  my  papa,"  said  the  poor 
child.     "I  don't  want  to  stay  here." 

"I'll  whip  you,"  said  a  harsh  voice,  "if  you  are 


BOB  BURTON  22^ 

not  good.  It's  time  girls  were  a-bed.  I'm  going 
to  put  you  to  bed,  and  you  can  sleep  till  morning." 

"I  don't  want  to  go  to  bed." 

There  was  a  little  scream,  for  the  woman  had 
slapped  her. 

"I'd  like  to  get  at  that  woman,  Clip,"  said  Bob, 
indignantly. 

They  heard  the  door  open — the  door  of  the 
room  adjoining. 

The  partition  was  very  thin,  and  it  was  easy  to 
hear  what  was  going  on.  Not  only  this,  but  Clip 
discovered  an  auger  hole  about  eighteen  inches 
above  the  floor,  of  sufficient  size  to  enable  him  to 
look  through  it. 

"Who  was  that  black  boy?"  he  heard  the  little 
girl  say.     "He's  a  funny-looking  boy." 

"He's  come  to  stay  here  with  the  other  boy," 
answered  the  woman,  glad  to  find  something  of 
interest  to  take  the  place  of  the  complaints. 

"Where  are  they?"  asked  the  girl. 

"They  are  sleeping  in  the  next  room,  so  you 
need  not  be  afraid  if  I  go  down  and  leave  you." 

"May  I  play  with  them  to-morrow  ?" 

"Yes,  if  you  will  be  a  good  girl,"  said  the 
woman,  willing  to  promise  anything. 

Then  there  was  a  little  pause,  spent  in  undress- 
ing the  child. 

"Now  get  into  bed,  and  go  to  sleep  as  soon  as 
you  can." 


224  BOB  BURTON 

"Will  you  take  me  to  my  papa  to-morrow?" 

"No,"  answered  the  woman,  shortly.  "Your 
papa  wants  you  to  stay  with  me." 

"Won't  I  ever  see  my  papa  again?"  asked  the 
child,  almost  ready  to  cry. 

"Yes;  perhaps  he  will  come  to  see  you  next 
week,"  answered  the  woman,  fearing  that  the  child 
might  sob  and  compel  her  to  remain  upstairs. 

"Clip,"  said  Bob,  who  had  taken  Clip's  place 
at  the  hole  in  the  partition,  "there's  no  doubt  of 
it.  The  girl  has  been  stolen.  I  wish  I  could  go 
into  the  room,  and  ask  her  about  her  father  and 
her  home." 

He  went  to  the  door  and  tried  it,  but  it  was 
firmly  locked,  and  it  was  quite  useless  to  try  to 
get  out. 

Meanwhile  Joe  and  his  wife  were  conversing 
downstairs. 

"Joe,"  said  the  woman,  "I  hope  I'll  get  rid  of 
that  brat  soon.     She's  a  heap  of  trouble." 

"We  shall  be  well  paid,"  said  Joe. 

"Who's  to  pay  us?"  asked  the  woman. 

"Brown.  He's  the  man  that's  got  charge  of 
the  job.  She's  got  a  rich  father,  who'll  shell  out 
liberal  to  get  her  back." 

"Did  he  pay  you  anything  in  advance?" 

"I  squeezed  five  dollars  out  of  him." 

"Where  is  it,  Joe?" 


BOB  BURTON  225 

"Don't  you  wish  you  knew,  old  woman?"  said 
Joe,  with  a  grin.    "I  can  take  care  of  it." 

"Half  of  it  belongs  to  me." 

"How  do  you  make  that  out?" 

"Haven't  I  the  care  of  the  child?  It  don't 
trouble  you." 

"It's  all  right,  old  lady.  You  won't  be  for- 
gotten." 

"How  much  more  is  Brown  to  pay  you?"  asked 
the  woman,  appearing  dissatisfied. 

"Forty-five  dollars." 

The  woman's  eyes  sparkled.  To  her  this  seemed 
a  vast  sum  of  money. 

"And  how  much  am  I  to  have?" 

"What  do  you  want  money  for?"  demanded 
Joe,  impatiently. 

"I  do  want  it,  and  that's  enough." 

"Well,  I  can't  say  yet,  old  lady,  but  maybe  you'll 
get  ten  dollars." 

"Altogether?" 

"Of  course.     Ain't  that  enough?" 

"No,  it  isn't.    We  ought  to  divide  even." 

"Pooh!  You're  a  woman;  you  don't  need 
money?" 

An  unpleasant  look  came  over  the  woman's  face, 
but  she  said  nothing. 

"Come,  old  woman;  I've  got  something  that'll 
put  you  in  good  humor.     See  here !" 


226  BOB  BURTON 

Joe  produced  from  an  out-of-the-way  corner  a 
suspicious-looking  jug. 

"Do  you  know  what's  in  this?" 
"What  is  it?"  asked  the  woman,  looking  in- 
terested. 

"Whisky.  Get  some  boiling  water,  and  I'll 
make  you  some  punch.  We'll  make  a  night  of  it." 
His  wife  brightened  up.  Evidently  she  did  not 
belong  to  a  temperance  society,  any  more  than  her 
husband.  She  moved  about  the  room  with  alacrity, 
and,  assisted  by  her  husband,  brewed  a  punch  that 
was  of  considerable  strength.  Then  they  put  it 
on  the  table  and  set  about  enjoying  themselves. 

"Here's  your  health,  ol'  woman!"  said  Joe,  and 
he  tried  to  sing  a  stave  of  an  old  drinking  song. 

Together  they  caroused  until  a  late  hour,  and 
then  fell  into  a  drunken  sleep,  which  lasted  till  a 
late  hour  in  the  morning. 

About  seven  o'clock  the  little  girl  woke  up,  and 
as  is  usual  with  children,  wished  to  be  dressed  at 
once. 

"Aunt,"  Bob  heard  her  say,  "I  want  to  be 
dressed." 

But  no  one  came  at  her  call. 
After  a  little  waiting,  she  got  out  of  bed  and 
went  downstairs,  but  returned  in  a  minute  or  two, 
crying. 

Bob  called  through  the  partition: 
"What's  the  matter,  little  girl?" 


BOB  BURTON  227 

"There's  nobody  to  dress  me.  Are  you  the  boy 
that  came  yesterday?" 

"Yes.  Where  is  the  woman  that  put  you  to 
bed?" 

"She's  downstairs — she  and  the  man.  They're 
lying  on  the  floor.    I  can't  wake  them  up." 

An  idea  came  to  Bob. 

"Come  to  our  door,  little  girl,  and  see  if  you 
can  draw  back  the  bolt.    We  are  fastened  in." 

"Will  you  take  me  to  my  papa?" 

"Yes;  I  will  try  to." 

The  child  came  to  the  door,  and,  following  Bob's 
directions,  with  some  difficulty  slipped  back  the 
bolt. 

"Clip,"  said  Bob,  in  a  tone  of  triumph,  "we're 
free.  Now,  do  as  I  tell  you,  and  we'll  get  awayv 
and  reach  St.  Louis  ahead  of  the  boat." 


228  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

A  LUCKY  ESCAPE 

"Now,"  said  Bob  to  the  little  girl,  as  they  de- 
scended the  steep  and  narrow  staircase,  "will  you 
do  as  I  tell  you?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  child,  placing  her  hand 
confidingly  in  his. 

"Then  make  as  little  noise  as  possible.  We  don't 
want  them  to  wake  up.  If  they  do,  they  will  pre- 
vent your  going  away." 

"Will  you  take  me  back  to  my  papa,  certain 
sure?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad!" 

"Clip,"  said  Bob,  warningly,  "mind  you  remain 
perfectly  quiet.  We  must  go  through  the  room 
where  the  man  and  woman  are  sleeping.  Any 
little  noise  might  wake  them  up." 

"Don't  be  afeared  for  me,  Massa  Bob,"  said 
•Clip. 

The  staircase  led  into  the  main  room  below,  so 


BOB  BURTON  229 

that,    as    Bob    said,    it    was    necessary    to    pass 
through  it. 

Entering  the  room  on  tiptoe,  they  witnessed  a 
reassuring  but  disgusting  spectacle.  Joe  Springer 
was  stretched  out  on  the  floor  on  his  back,  breath- 
ing heavily;  while  his  wife,  seated  in  a  chair,  rested 
her  head  on  the  kitchen  table.  She,  too,  seemed 
to  be  in  a  drunken  stupor. 

The  girl  regarded  the  woman  nervously,  re- 
membering the  harsh  treatment  she  had  received 
from  her. 

There  was  one  more  ordeal  and  one  more  danger 
to  run.  The  outer  door  was  locked,  but  the  key 
was  in  the  lock.  There  was  a  creaking  sound  as 
Bob  turned  it.  But  he  opened  the  door  success- 
fully, and  once  more  they  breathed  freely  in  the 
clear  air  of  morning.  As  the  door  opened  they 
heard  a  muttered  sound  from  Joe  Springer.  It 
sounded  like  "more  whisky!"  He  was  probably 
dreaming  of  his  potations  of  the  previous  night. 

Bob  hurried  along  his  two  companions  until  they 
had  reached  a  point  some  half  a  mile  distant  from 
the  place  of  their  imprisonment.  Then  he  thought 
it  best  to  question  the  little  girl. 

"What  is  your  name?"  he  asked,  gently. 

"Don't  you  know  my  name?"  asked  the  child, 
in  surprise.     "My  name  is  Maud." 

"What  is  your  other  name?" 

"Pearson — my  name  is  Maud  Lillian  Pearson."' 


230  BOB  BURTON 

"Just  as  I  thought,  Clip,"  said  Bob,  tri- 
umphantly. "This  is  the  little  girl  that  was  stolen 
from  her  parents  in  St.  Louis." 

"Yes ;  my  papa  lives  in  St.  Louis.  Will  you  take 
me  to  him?" 

"Yes,  Maud.  Only  be  a  good  girl  and  do  as  I 
tell  you." 

"And  you  won't  let  that  ugly  woman  take  me 
away?" 

"No;  we  will  hide  you  away  from  her.  Did 
she  treat  you  badly?" 

"Yes;  she  shook  me  and  said  she  would  whip 
me.     She  said  she  was  my  aunt;  but  it  isn't  true." 

"Who  brought  you  to  her?" 

Maud  thereupon  described  the  man  whom  we 
know  as  Brown,  the  abler  one  of  the  confederates 
who  had  stolen  the  ferryboat. 

"I  wonder  whether  our  boat  is  gone?"  said  Bob. 

"Mebbe  we  can  see  from  the  hill,"  suggested 
Clip. 

There  was  a  small  elevation  near-by.  Bob 
ascended  it,  and  looked  toward  the  point  where 
his  boat  had  been  tied  up.  There  was  no  sign  of 
it.  It  had  disappeared.  Though  still  early, 
Brown  and  Minton,  fearing  interference,  had  cut 
loose  about  four  o'clock,  and  were  by  this  time 
several  miles  on  their  way  to  the  great  city. 

"It's  gone,  Clip,"  said  Bob,  sadly. 


BOB  BURTON  231 

"Never  mind,  Massa  Bob;  we'll  catch  'em,"  an- 
swered Clip,  energetically. 

"Yes,  if  there  is  any  boat  starts  down  the  river 
to-day." 

This,  however,  was  something  which  he  was  not 
sure  of.  Moreover,  he  felt  that  the  sooner  he  got 
away  from  Joe  Springer  and  his  estimable  wife 
the  better.  But  where  could  he  take  refuge  ?  Not 
at  the  hotel,  for  Springer  would  find  him  out  and 
reclaim  the  little  girl.  While  he  was  considering, 
in  his  perplexity,  what  course  to  pursue,  he  fell  in 
with  two  boys,  who  appeared  to  be  about  fifteen 
years  of  age.  They  regarded  Bob  and  his  party 
with  curiosity. 

Bob  eyed  the  boys  closely,  and  decided  that  they 
could  be  depended  upon.  They  seemed  to  be  just 
the  friends  he  was  in  search  of.  He  introduced 
himself,  and  learned  that  their  names  were  John 
Sheehan  and  Edward  Bovee. 

"Can  you  tell  me,  boys,  when  the  next  steamer 
will  start  for  St.  Louis  ?" 

"Yes,"  answered  John;  "there  is  one  at  seven 
o'clock  to-morrow  morning." 

"That  is  the  earliest?" 

"Yes,"  said  John.  , 

"Do  you  know  of  any  private  house  where  we 
can  stay  till  that  time  ?  I  am  willing  to  pay  a  fair 
price." 

"You  can  come  to  our  house,"  said  Edward  Bo- 


232  BOB  BURTON 

vee.  "I  am  sure  my  mother  will  take  you  in.  But 
you  won't  get  as  good  meals  as  at  the  hotel." 

"I  don't  mind  that.  I  shall  be  glad  to  stay  at 
your  house.    Could  we  go  there  to  breakfast?" 

"Yes;  follow  me,  and  I  will  lead  the  way." 

Edward  Bovee  led  the  way  to  a  neat  cottage, 
where  his  mother,  a  pleasant-looking  lady,  wel- 
comed them,  and  readily  undertook  to  keep  them 
until  the  boat  started  for  St.  Louis.  Bob,  feeling 
the  necessity  of  concealment,  took  Mrs.  Bovee  into 
his  confidence,  and  readily  secured  the  co-operation 
of  the  good  lady,  who  took  a  motherly  interest  in 
little  Maud. 

Now  that  the  children  have  found  a  safe  re- 
treat, we  will  return  to  Joe  Springer  and  his  inter- 
esting wife. 

About  half  an  hour  after  their  young  prisoners 
had  escaped  Mrs.  Springer  raised  her  head  from 
the  table,  and  looked  about  her  in  a  bewildered 
way.  The  bright  sunshine  entering  at  the  window 
revealed  to  her  that  she  had  spent  the  night  in  a 
drunken  stupor,  even  if  Joe's  prostrate  form  had 
not  been  a  visible  reminder.  She  went  to  her  hus- 
band and  shook  him  roughly. 

"Get  up,  Joe!     It's  morning!" 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  around  him  with 
stupefaction. 

"What's  up,  old  woman?"  he  asked. 


BOB  BURTON  233- 

"I  am,  and  you  ought  to  be,"  she  answered, 
sharply. 

"Where's  the  whisky?" 

"You've  had  enough.  Now  get  up  and  hustle 
round,  if  you  want  some  breakfast.  I'll  go  up 
and  dress  the  little  girl." 

Mrs.  Springer  went  upstairs,  but  came  down 
again,  two  steps  at  a  time,  in  a  state  of  high  ex- 
citement. 

"Joe,"  said  she,  quickly,  "the  little  gal's  gone!" 

"What?" 

"The  little  gal's  gone !  Run  out  and  see  if  youi 
can't  catch  her.  If  we  lose  her,  we  lose  fifty 
dollars." 

"Are  the  boys  all  right?" 

"Yes,  the  door  is  bolted.  They  couldn't  get 
out." 

This  was  true.  Bob  had  taken  the  precaution 
to  lock  the  door  after  leaving  the  room.  For  this 
reason,  it  was  half  an  hour  later  before  Joe  dis- 
covered that  all  his  prisoners  had  escaped.  Then, 
as  might  have  been  expected,  there  was  a  wild 
scene  of  recrimination,  ending  in  a  fight,  in  which 
Mrs.  Springer  did  her  part,  for  she  was  by  no 
means  a  weak  or  delicate  lady,  but  a  woman  with- 
out fear,  who  believed  in  the  right  of  self-defense. 
The  worthy  pair  instituted  a  search  through  the 
village,  but  failed  to  discover  any  trace  of  the  lost 
children.       The     next     morning,     however,     Joe: 


234  BOB  BURTON 

Springer  got  up  unusually  early,  for  him,  and 
strolled  to  the  steamboat  landing.  The  boat  was 
already  out  in  the  stream,  when  on  the  deck  he  dis- 
covered Maud  and  the  two  boys. 

"Stop  the  boat!"  screamed  Joe,  in  excitement. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  the  man  beside  him. 

"Those  three  children.     They  have  run  away." 

"From  you?" 

"Yes;  from  my  house." 

"Why,  man,  you  must  be  drunk!  You  have  no 
children." 

"I  had  charge  of  'em,  particularly  the  little  gal. 
Stop  the  boat,  I  say!" 

"Has  the  man  any  claim  on  you  ?"  asked  the  cap- 
tain, who  happened  to  be  standing  near  Bob. 

"Not  the  slightest,"  answered  Bob. 

"Or  the  little  girl?" 

"No;  her  father  lives  in  St.  Louis,  and  I  am  tak- 
ing her  to  him." 

"Stop  the  boat!"  screamed  Joe,  frantically. 

"He's  drunk,"  said  Joe's  neighbor.  "He  does 
not  know  what  he  is  talking  about." 

This  settled  the  matter  as  far  as  the  captain 
was  concerned.  Bob  paid  the  full  passage  money 
for  the  party,  and  they  were  enrolled  as  regular 
passengers. 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  a  surprise 
awaited  them.     They  saw,  not  far  ahead,  their 


BOB  BURTON  235 

own  boat,  which  was  drifting  down  the  river,  with 
Brown  at  the  helm. 

"Do  you  see  that,  Clip?"  asked  Bob. 

"Yes,  Massa  Bob." 

"Quick,  hide !  Don't  let  them  see  us.  I  have  no- 
objection  to  their  working  their  passage  down  to 
the  city.  When  they  get  there,  we  will  be  on  hand 
to  take  possession." 

"Dat's  a  good  joke!  Won't  they  be  s'prised, 
dough?"  said  Clip,  showing  his  white  teeth. 

So  the  steamboat  swept  by,  carrying  the  three 
children  past  the  two  conspirators,  who  fancied 
them  safely  housed  in  Joe  Springer's  house  up  the. 
river. 


236  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

MR.  WOLVERTON' S  LETTER 

While  the  boys  are  meeting  with  adventures 
on  their  way  down  the  river,  we  will  return  to  the 
town  of  Carver,  in  which,  as  will  be  remembered, 
the  Burton  Ranch  was  located. 

There  was  no  one  more  interested  in  the  pro- 
gress of  the  expedition  than  Aaron  Wolverton.  It 
was  against  his  wishes  and  interests  that  Rob  should 
succeed  in  carrying  out  his  plans.  He  wanted  to 
get  possession  of  the  Burton  Ranch,  and  force  Mrs. 
Burton  to  take  him  for  her  second  husband.  Most 
of  all,  perhaps,  he  wanted  to  humble  the  pride  of 
"the  Burton  boy,"  as  he  styled  Bob,  for  he  cor- 
dially hated  him,  and  was  well  aware  that  Bob 
disliked  and  despised  him.  If  he  could  only  bring 
about  the  failure  of  Bob's  trip,  and  the  loss  of  his 
cargo,  he  would  have  both  Bob  and  his  mother  in 
his  power. 

Wolverton  had  been  anxiously  awaiting  intelli- 
gence  from  his   agents,   and  the  postmaster  was 


BOB  BURTON  237 

somewhat  surprised  at  his  numerous  visits  to  the 
office  for  letters. 

At  length,  one  morning  Aaron  Wolverton's  pa- 
tience was  rewarded. 

.     A  letter  was  handed  him,  directed  in  an  almost 
illegible  scrawl  to 

Mr.  A.  Wolverton,  Esq. 

It  was  written  by  Brown,  who  was  by  no  means. 
an  accomplished  scholar. 

Wolverton  opened  it  eagerly,  and  read  the  fol- 
lowing lines : 

"Mr.  Wolverton:  I  write  you  these  few  lines 
from  Rocky  Creek.  I  am  pleased  to  say  we  have 
got  the  bote,  and  are  jest  starting  for  St.  Louis. 
with  the  cargo  on  bord.  If  you  want  to  know 
about  the  boys,  bob  burton  and  the  little  nigger 
are  locked  up  in  a  house  in  the  village  belonging 
to  one  of  my  friends,  and  they  won't  be  let  out 
till  it  is  perfectly  saif.  We  got  hold  of  them  by 
a  nise  trick.  I  haven't  time  to  tell  you  about  it 
now,  but  when  we  meat,  you  shall  kno  all. 

"Send  that  fifty  dollars  to  Mr.  J.  Brown,  St. 
Louis  Post  Office.  Don't  forget !  This  is  im- 
portant. 

"Yours  to  command, 

"J.   Brown." 


238  BOB  BURTON 

This  letter,  ill-spelled  as  it  was,  seemed  to  give 
Aaron  Wolverton  unbounded  satisfaction.  A 
gratified  smile  overspread  his  face,  and  he  said  to 
himself:  "That  will  bring  down  the  Burton  pride. 
That  young  whipper-snapper  will  come  home  with 
a  few  less  airs  than  when  he  set  out.  The  chances 
are  that  he'll  have  to  walk  home  or  buy  passage." 

Wolverton  chuckled  at  this  agreeable  thought. 
He  would  be  revenged  upon  poor  Bob  for  all  the 
mortifications  to  which  the  boy  had  subjected  him; 
and,  to  a  man  of  Wolverton's  temperament,  re- 
venge was  sweet. 

"You  have  received  good  news,  Mr.  Wolver- 
ton," said  the  postmaster,  observing  the  land 
agent's  evident  glee. 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  asked  Wolverton, 
cautiously. 

"I  judged  from  your  smiling  face." 

"It  wasn't  the  letter.  I  was  thinking  of  some- 
thing." 

"That  is  only  a  blind,"  thought  the  postmaster. 
"I  saw  his  face  light  up  when  he  read  the  letter. 
Let  me  see;  it  was  mailed  from  Rocky  Creek.  I 
will  bear  that  in  mind,  and  some  day  I  may  discover 
the  secret." 

As  Wolverton  picked  his  way  through  the  mud 
from  the  postoffice  to  his  office,  he  fell  in  with 
Mrs.  Burton,  who  had  come  to  the  village  on  busi- 


BOB  BURTON  239 

ness.  He  smiled  to  himself,  and  prepared  to  ac- 
cost her. 

"I  hope  I  see  you  well,  Mrs.  Burton,"  he  said, 
with  gravity. 

"Very  well,  thank  you,  Mr.  Wolverton,"  an- 
swered the  widow,  coldly. 

"What  do  you  hear  from  your  son?" 

"I  received  a  letter  yesterday.  All  was  going 
well  with  him." 

"I  am  really  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Wolverton, 
with  a  queer  smile.  "Still,  you  must  remember 
that  'there's  many  a  slip  'twixt  the  cup  and  the 
lip.'  " 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Wolverton?"  asked 
Mrs.  Burton,  quickly. 

"What  should  I  mean?"  said  Wolverton,  in  ap- 
parent surprise. 

"Have  you  heard  any  bad  news  of  Robert?" 

"Oh,  dear,  no!  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  you, 
son  is  prejudiced  against  me,  and  would  hardly 
favor  me  with  any  letter." 

Mrs.  Burton  looked  relieved. 

"I  was  only  warning  you  on  general  principles. 
'Let  him  that  thinketh  he  standeth  take  heed  lest 
he  fall,'  as  the  Scriptures  have  it." 

"Thank  you  for  the  caution,"  said  Mrs.  Burton, 
drily. 

"By  the  way,  have  you  heard  anything  of  your 
nephew,  Sam?" 


24o  BOB  BURTON 

Wolverton's  face  darkened. 

"No,"  he  answered.  "I  did  think,  I  confess, 
that  he  might  have  run  away  with  Bob,  but  I  don't 
think  so  now." 

"If  he  did,  I  know  nothing  of  it." 

This  was  true.  For  obvious  reasons,  Bob  had 
not  taken  his  mother  into  his  confidence  on  this 
subject. 

"The  boy  has  shown  base  ingratitude  to  me," 
continued  Wolverton,  bitterly.  "I  cared  for  him 
and  kept  him  from  starving,  and  how  has  he  re- 
warded me?" 

"If  his  home  was  so  agreeable  as  you  represent, 
it  is  certainly  surprising  that  he  should  have  left 
you.    Good-morning,  Mr.  Wolverton." 

"What  did  she  mean?"  Wolverton  asked  him- 
self. "Some  of  her  sarcasm,  I  suppose.  When 
she  becomes  Mrs.  Wolverton  I  will  get  even  with 
her." 

As  nothing  had  been  said  of  Sam  in  the  letter 
of  his  confidential  agent,  Wolverton  no  longer  sus- 
pected that  he  had  gone  down  the  river  with  Bob 
Burton.  On  the  whole,  as  he  had  Sam's  property 
in  his  possession,  he  did  not  care  whether  the  boy 
ever  returned,  except  that  he  would  have  liked  to 
give  him  a  good  flogging. 


BOB  BURTON        241 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

BOB'S  ARRIVAL  IN  ST.  LOUIS 

Meanwhile  Bob  and  Clip  were  steaming  rap- 
idly down  the  river.  Now  that  he  was  pretty  sure 
of  recovering  his  boat  and  cargo,  Bob  gave  himself 
up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  trip,  and  was  fain  to 
confess  that  he  enjoyed  it  better  than  working  his 
passage  on  the  ferryboat.  As  for  Maud,  she 
seemed  to  feel  as  much  confidence  in  our  hero  as 
if  she  had  known  him  all  her  life.  She  seemed 
also  to  appreciate  Clip,  but  in  a  different  way. 

"You're  a  funny  boy!"  she  said. 

"Yah,  yah,  little  missy!"  laughed  Clip. 

"Where's  your  mother?" 

"Dunno,  missy.    I  expect  she's  dead." 

"My  mamma's  dead,  too.  She's  in  heaven.  Is 
your  mamma  there,  too?" 

"S'pect  so,  little  missy." 

Bob  questioned  the  little  girl  as  to  the  manner 
of  her  abduction.  He  learned  that  she  had  been 
carried  off  from  the  street  in  which  she  lived  by 
Brown,  who  secured  her  consent  by  a  promise  of 


242  BOB  BURTON 

candy.  Then  she  was  put  into  a  carriage,  and  given 
something  to  drink.  When  she  woke  up  she  was 
on  a  river  steamer,  being  landed  at  length  at  the 
place  where  Bob  found  her. 

"Did  my  papa  send  you  for  me?'*  she  asked. 

"No,  Maud,"  answered  Bob;  "but  1  heard  you 
had  been  stolen,  and  I  determined  to  carry  you 
back,  if  I  could." 

"On  what  street  does  your  father  live?"  asked 
Bob,  later. 

"On  Laclede  Avenue." 

"Can  you  tell  me  the  number?" 

This  also  Maud  was  able  to  tell.  At  the  first 
stopping  place,  after  he  had  obtained  this  informa- 
tion, Bob,  appreciating  the  anxiety  of  Maud's 
friends,  telegraphed  her  father  as  follows: 

"I  have  discovered  your  little  daughter,  and  am 
on  my  way  to  the  city  with  her.  She  was  taken  to 
Rocky  Creek,  and  confined  there.  Our  steamer — 
the  Gazelle — will  probably  arrive  at  her  wharf  to- 
morrow morning.  "Robert  Burton." 

When  this  telegram  was  received,  Mr.  Pearson 
was  suffering  deep  grief  and  anxiety;  but  the  mes- 
sage comforted  him  not  a  little. 

When  the  steamer  reached  the  pier,  a  middle- 
aged  man  of  medium  size  and  dark  complexion  was 
waiting  on  the  wharf. 


BOB  BURTON  243 

"That's  my  papa,"  exclaimed  Maud,  clapping 
her  hands ;  and  the  little  girl  danced  on  the  deck  in 
her  joy. 

In  a  moment  she  was  in  the  arms  of  her  father. 

"My  darling  Maud!"  he  exclaimed,  caressing 
her  fondly.  "Thank  Heaven  I  have  you  back 
again!    Where  is  Mr.  Burton?" 

"My  name  is  Robert  Burton,"  said  Bob,  mod- 
estly. 

"What,  a  boy!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pearson,  in 
amazement.  "I  supposed  the  person  who  tele- 
graphed me  was  a  man." 

"He's  a  nice  boy,"  said  Maud,  putting  her  hand 
confidingly  in  Bob's. 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Pearson,  cordially, 
grasping  the  hand  of  our  hero. 

"And  he's  a  funny  boy,"  continued  Maud,  point- 
ing out  Clip. 

"Yah,  yah  I"  laughed  Clip,  with  a  broad  grin  on 
his  shining  face. 

"Clip  is  a  companion  of  mine,"  explained  Bob; 
"and  we  came  down  the  river  together." 

"I  am  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Mr. 
Clip,"  said  Mr.  Pearson,  smiling,  and  taking  Clip 
by  the  hand. 

"Yah,  yah  !"  laughed  the  delighted  Clip. 

"Now,  boys,"  said  Mr.  Pearson,  as  they  passed 
over  the  gang-plank  and  set  foot  upon  the  wharf, 
"I  shall  take  you  both  home  with  me.     I  have  not 


244  BOB  BURTON 

yet  had  an  opportunity  of  asking  questions  about 
how  you  came  to  find  my  dear  child,  and  rescue  her 
from  her  terrible  captivity.  There  stands  my  car- 
riage. Get  in,  both  of  you,  and  we  will  go  to  my 
home  at  once." 

It  was  a  strange  sensation  to  Clip  to  find  himself 
riding  in  a  handsome  carriage,  the  favored  guest 
of  the  wealthy  proprietor.  He  was  not  sure  whether 
he  were  awake  or  dreaming. 

They  drove  rapidly  for  perhaps  a  couple  of 
miles,  and  then  stopped  in  front  of  an  elegant  man- 
sion in  the  upper  part  of  Laclede  Avenue.  The 
two  boys  never  expected  to  enter  St.  Louis  in  such 
grand  style. 


BOB  BURTON        245 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

A   THOUSAND   DOLLARS   REWARD 

A  LITTLE  awed  by  the  splendid  appointments  of 
the  merchant's  house,  Bob  and  Clip  entered,  fol- 
lowing Mr.  Pearson. 

A  stout,  pleasant-looking  woman  of  middle  age 
■ — the  housekeeper — appeared  at  the  door  of  a  side 
room.  She  darted  forward,  and  clasped  Maud  in 
a  fond  embrace. 

"My  darling  Maud,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you 
back!"  she  said.     "I  thought  we  had  lost  you." 

"This  is  the  young  man  who  rescued  Maud, 
Margaret,"  said  Mr.  Pearson,  pointing  to  Bob. 

"And  he  so  young!  I  must  kiss  him,  too!"  said 
Margaret;  and,  considerably  to  our  hero's  embar- 
rassment, Margaret  gave  him  a  resounding  kiss. 

"This  boy  also  assisted,"  said  Mr.  Pearson,  indi- 
cating Clip,  with  a  smile. 

Margaret  hesitated  a  moment — she  was  not 
quite  prepared  to  kiss  a  colored  boy — but  compro- 
mised by  shaking  his  hand  cordially. 


246  BOB  BURTON 

"You  look  like  a  nice  boy,  Clip,"  she  said. 

"So  I  is,  missus;  yah,  yah!"  responded  Clip, 
laughing. 

''Now,  Margaret,  can  you  give  us  something  to 
eat  ?"  said  Mr.  Pearson. 

"It's  all  ready,  sir.  I  thought  you  and  Miss 
Maud  would  be  hungry." 

'I  suspect  we  are  all  hungry,"  said  Mr.  Pearson, 
leading  the  way  into  a  handsome  dining-room. 

"JNow,  boys,  take  your  seats,"  he  said. 

Clip  felt  a  little  awkward,  for  he  was  not  used  to 
being  a  guest  at  a  rich  man's  table,  but  he  did  not 
allow  his  bashfulness  to  interfere  with  the  gratifica- 
tion of  an  excellent  appetite. 

When  the  meal  was  over,  Mr.  Pearson  invited 
the  boys  into  his  library,  and  seated  himself  at  a 
desk. 

He  drew  a  check-book  from  a  drawer  and  wrote 
for  a  minute.  Then  he  tore  off  a  check  and  handed 
it  to  Bob. 

"This  is  the  reward  I  offered  for  the  return  of 
my  dear  daughter,"  he  said.  "I  have  made  the 
check  payable  to  your  order." 

Bob  took  it  and  read  as  follows  : 

"First  National  Bank, 

"Pay  to  the  order  of  Robert  Burton, 

"One  Thousand  Dollars. 

"$i,ooo.  John  Pearson." 


BOB  BURTON  247 

"I  don't  like  to  take  this  large  sum,  Mr.  Pear- 
son,"  said  Bob.  "I  did  not  rescue  your  daughter 
for  money." 

"I  am  quite  aware  of  that,  my  boy,  but  it  is  a 
pleasure  for  me  to  give  you  this  proof  of  my  grati- 
tude.   I  am  sure  you  will  spend  it  creditably." 

"I  shall  find  it  very  useful,  sir;  and  I  thank  you 
sincerely.    May  I  ask  if  you  do  not  deal  in  wheat  ?" 

"That  is  a  part  of  my  business." 

"I  shall  have  about  fourteen  hundred  bushels  to 
dispose  of  if  I  recover  my  boat." 

"I  will  give  you  two  dollars  and  a  quarter  a 
bushel,  if  it  is  in  good  condition." 

"I  accept,  sir,"  answered  Bob,  promptly.  "Now, 
may  I  ask  your  advice  as  to  how  to  proceed  to  re- 
gain possession  of  the  boat?" 

"When  do  you  expect  it  to  arrive?"  asked  the 
merchant. 

"Probably  not  till  to-morrow,  but  I  can't  guess 
at  what  part  of  the  day.  It  depends  on  how  well 
the  thieves  succeeded  in  managing  the  boat." 

"I  will  order  my  carriage  and  drive  round  with 
you  to  the  Central  Police  Office.  The  police  will 
take  proper  measures  to  recover  the  boat  and  arrest 
the  rascals  who  robbed  you  of  it." 

"Won't  it  be  too  much  trouble,  sir?" 

"I  shall  not  count  it  a  trouble,  for  I  shall  at  the 
same  time  be  punishing  the  men  who  abducted  my 
dear  Maud.    They  will  be  tried  for  both  offenses, 


248  BOB  BURTON 

and  will  probably  get  a  long  term  of  imprison- 
ment." 

In  an  hour  information  had  been  lodged  at  the 
Central  Police  Office,  and  orders  had  been  given  to 
watch  the  river,  and  to  keep  a  good  lookout  for  the 
boat,  of  which  Bob  furnished  a  description. 

That  night  Bob  and  Clip  slept  at  Mr.  Pearson's 
house,  being  treated  as  honored  guests. 


BOB  BURTON  249 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

BROWN  AND  MINTON  WALK  INTO  A  TRAP 

Little  suspecting  the  reception  awaiting  them 
in  St.  Louis,  Minton  and  Brown  were  laboriously 
guiding  their  stolen  craft  down  the  river.  Not 
being  accustomed  to  labor  of  any  sort,  they  found 
the  confinement  irksome,  but  the  prize  for  which 
they  were  striving  was  so  large  that  they  took  it 
very  good-humoredly.  They  whiled  away  the  time 
by  indulging  in  visions  of  future  ease  and  pros- 
perity, and  in  exchanging  witticisms  at  the  expense 
of  Bob,  the  youthful  owner  of  the  boat. 

"I  wonder  how  the  young  captain  is  enjoying 
himself?"  said  Minton,  as  he  lay  back,  with  one  of 
the  bins  for  a  support,  while  puffing  at  a  cigar. 

"He  is  ready  to  tear  his  hair  out,  I  presume," 
said  Brown.  "He's  a  conceited  young  popinjay, 
and  deserves  to  have  his  pride  taken  down." 

"You're  right  there,  Brown.  We  shall  make  a 
tidy  sum  out  of  our  venture." 

"Yes;  we  can  afford  to  retire  for  a  time.  Of 
course,  I  shall  want  more  than  half." 

"I  don't  see  that,"  said  Minton,  quickly. 


250  BOB  BURTON 

"Why,  man,  I've  done  all  the  headwork.  What 
have  you  done  to  compare  with  me?" 

"We  are  equal  partners,"  said  Minton,  dog- 
gedly. 

"That  is  where  you  are  mistaken.  I  don't  mind, 
though,  giving  you  half  of  what  we  get  for  the 
girl." 

"How  shall  we  arrange  to  get  anything?  It  is 
rather  a  ticklish  business " 

"That's  where  the  headwork  comes  in.  I  shall 
wait  upon  old  Pearson,  and  tell  him  that  I  have  a 
clew,  and  suspect  I  know  who  abducted  the  child. 
Then  I'll  work  him  up  to  a  point  where  he'll  shell 
out  liberally." 

"Won't  there  be  risk?" 

"How  can  there  be  ?  Leave  the  thing  to  me  and 
I'll  arrange  it.  The  fact  is,  Minton,  you  are  a  man 
of  no  ideas.  If  I  depended  on  you,  you  wouldn't 
make  a  cent  out  of  one  of  the  neatest  jobs  I've  ever 
been  concerned  in." 

Minton  was  conscious  that  there  was  some  truth 
in  this,  and  it  helped  to  reconcile  him  to  the  evident 
determination  of  his  companion  to  appropriate  the 
lion's  share  of  the  fruits  of  their  questionable  enter- 
prises. 

"I  suppose  Joe's  all  right?"  he  said,  after  a 
pause. 

"Of  course  he  is.  What  would  he  make  by  prov- 
ing false  to  us?" 


BOB  BURTON  251 

"Nothing,  that  I  can  see.  Still,  if  he  should  do 
so,  it  might  upset  our  plans.  The  boy  could  afford 
to  pay  him  well  for  releasing  him." 

"That  is  true,"  returned  Brown,  thoughtfully. 
"On  all  accounts  it  will  be  necessary  for  us  to  expe- 
dite matters.  I  shan't  waste  any  time  once  we  are 
in  St.  Louis." 

"You  mean  in  disposing  of  the  cargo?" 

"Precisely.  I  am  in  no  position  to  haggle  about 
prices.  I'll  offer  it  at  a  bargain  to  some  large 
dealer.  He  will  naturally  think  I'm  a  country  gen- 
tleman, and  clinch  the  bargain  at  once.  Do  you 
see?" 

"Yes,  Brown.    You've  got  the  right  idea." 

"Of  course  I  have,"  said  Brown,  complacently. 
"It  takes  a  long  head  to  outwit  me.  Got  another 
cigar,  Minton?" 

Minton  drew  out  one  and  handed  it  to  his  con- 
federate, and  presently  took  his  turn  at  the  rudder. 

So  time  passed,  the  boat  making  good  progress, 
and  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  boat 
reached  an  obscure  pier  in  the  lower  part  of  St. 
Louis. 

There  were  some  interested  persons  watching  its 
arrival.  Among  them  were  Bob  and  his  friend 
Clip,  and  a  small  squad  of  policemen.  Not  suspect- 
ing anything,  Brown  and  Minton  busied  themselves 
in  bringing  the  boat  to  anchor.  Meanwhile  Bob, 
without  being  observed,  stepped  aboard. 


252  BOB  BURTON 

"Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Brown !  I  hope  you  had 
a  pleasant  trip,"  he  said,  quietly. 

Brown  felt  as  if  he  had  been  struck  by  lightning. 
Wheeling  around  suddenly,  he  saw  Bob's  eyes  fixed 
upon  him.  He  was  absolutely  speechless  with 
amazement  and  consternation. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  finally  ejaculated,  quickly 
resolving  to  brazen  it  out,  and  deny  Bob's  claim  of 
ownership. 

"I  think  you  know  me,  Mr.  Brown!"  replied 
Bob.  "I  have  only  to  thank  you  for  taking  charge 
of  my  boat  and  bringing  it  safe  to  St.  Louis." 

"Look  here,  young  feller!"  said  Brown,  roughly, 
"you  must  be  crazy.  I  never  saw  you  before  in  my 
life,  and  here  you  come  on  board  my  boat  and  claim 
it  as  your  own.  If  you  don't  clear  out  I'll  have  you 
arrested." 

"There  will  be  no  difficulty  about  that,  Mr. 
Brown.    Here  are  policemen  close  at  hand." 

Mr.  Brown's  face  grew  pale  as  he  saw  three  stal- 
wart policemen  marching  on  board  the  boat. 

"I  guess  it's  all  up,  Minton,"  he  said,  and  made 
a  dash  for  liberty;  but  he  was  not  quick  enough. 
He  and  Minton  were  quickly  secured  and  marched 
off,  with  handcuffs  on  their  wrists.  As  we  are  now 
to  bid  these  gentlemen  farewell,  it  may  be  said 
briefly  that  they  pleaded  guilty  in  hopes  of  a  lighter 
sentence,  and  were  sent  to  prison  for  seven  years. 


BOB  BURTON  253 

Thus  far  the  community  has  been  able  to  spare 
them  without  inconvenience. 

Bob  and  Clip  resumed  charge  of  the  boat,  and 
during  the  next  day  disposed  of  the  cargo  to  Mr. 
Pearson  at  the  price  agreed  upon. 


254  BOB  BURTON 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

WHAT  BOB  BROUGHT  HOME 

After  disposing  of  his  cargo,  Bob  was  puzzled 
to  know  what  to  do  with  the  ferryboat.  Finally  he 
had  an  offer  of  one  hundred  dollars,  from  a  specu- 
lative Yankee  who  had  drifted  out  to  St.  Louis,  and 
gladly  accepted  it.  This  sum  paid  all  expenses,  in- 
cluding his  and  Clip's  return  fare,  and  left  him  with 
a  handsome  sum  to  his  credit,  viz. : 

1,400  bushels  wheat,  at  $2.25  .  .  .$3,150 
Reward 1,000 


$4, 1 50 


This  sum,  with  the  exception  of  one  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars,  by  advice  of  Mr.  Pearson,  he  depos- 
ited in  a  St.  Louis  bank,  and  then  started  for  home. 

He  could  not  make  the  whole  passage  by 
steamer,  but  went  part  way  by  railroad,  and  then 
engaged  a  carriage  to  a  point  four  miles  from 
home.    Thence  he  and  Clip  walked.    He  wanted  to 


BOB  BURTON  2551 

surprise  not  only  his  mother,  but  Wolverton.  He 
knew  now  that  Brown  and  Minton  had  only  been 
agents  of  his  more  crafty  enemy,  Brown  having 
made  a  written  confession,  not  so  much  out  of 
friendship  to  Bob  as  out  of  spite  against  Wolver- 
ton, whom  he  held  responsible  for  getting  him  into 
this  scrape. 

With  soiled  shoes  and  clothes  covered  with  dust, 
Bob  and  Clip  entered  the  village,  and  purposely 
walked  by  Wolverton's  office. 

The  latter,  spying  them  through  the  window, 
smiled  maliciously,  and  hurried  out  to  meet  them. 

"Aha,  my  young  friends,"  he  said,  with  a  pleased 
glance  at  their  soiled  clothes,  "so  you  have  re- 
turned?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Bob,  soberly. 

"And  what  luck  did  you  have,  may  I  ask?" 

"We  had  good  luck  at  first,  but  at  Rocky  Creek 
two  rascals  entrapped  us,  and  stole  our  boat  and 
cargo." 

Wolverton  laughed  outright.  So  it  was  true, 
after  all. 

"Excuse  my  smiling,"  he  said;  "but  you  seem  to 
have  come  out  at  the  little  end  of  the  horn." 

"It  does  seem  so,  sir." 

"You  remember  what  I  told  you  before  you 
started?" 

"What  was  that?" 

"That  you  were  too  young  for  such  an  expedi- 


256  BOB  BURTON 

tion.  It  would  have  been  much  better  for  you  to 
accept  my  offer." 

"It  seems  so,"  answered  Bob  again. 

"Seems  so !  Of  course  it  would  have  been.  But 
the  trouble  was,  you  were  so  puffed  up  by  your  own 
self-conceit  that  you  thought  you  knew  best." 

"I  plead  guilty  to  that,  sir;  I  did  think  so,"  an- 
swered Bob,  candidly. 

"I  am  glad  you  admit  it.  So  you  had  to  walk 
back?" 

"You  can  judge  for  yourself,  Mr.  Wolverton." 

"Well,  you  certainly  do  look  like  two  tramps. 
The  next  time  you  may  feel  like  following  my  ad- 
vice." 

"I  may,"  answered  Bob. 

It  did  occur  to  Mr.  Wolverton  that  Bob's  an- 
swers were  rather  unusual,  and  his  manner  rather 
queer,  quite  unlike  his  usual  tone  and  manner.  But 
this  he  readily  accounted  for.  The  boy's  pride  had 
been  humbled.  He  knew  now  that  he  was  in  Wol- 
verton's  power,  and  he  had  the  sense  to  be  humble, 
in  the  hope  of  making  better  terms. 

"But  it  won't  do,"  said  the  agent  to  himself. 
"He  will  find  that  I  will  have  what  is  mine,  and  he 
cannot  soften  my  heart  by  any  appeal  to  my  pity." 

"It  appears  to  me  you  are  in  rather  a  scrape,"  he 
said,  after  a  pause. 

"How  is  that?" 


BOB  BURTON  257 

"Why,  a  part  of  your  mortgage  comes  due  in  a 
short  time.    I  hope  you  don't  expect  me  to  wait." 

"No  doubt  you  will  be  considerate,  Mr.  Wolver- 
ton,  remembering  what  luck  we  have  had." 

"No,  I  won't,"  snarled  Wolverton. 

"Don't  flatter  yourself  so  far.  I  am  not  respon- 
sible for  your  misfortune,  or  folly,  as  I  call  it." 

"Still,  Mr.  Wolverton " 

"Oh,  it's  no  use  to  talk,"  continued  the  agent, 
raising  his  hand  impatiently.  "You  have  been  a 
fool,  and  you  must  suffer  the  penalty  of  your  folly." 

"Has  Sam  got  back,  Mr.  Wolverton?"  asked 
Bob,  changing  the  subject,  rather  to  Mr.  Wolver- 
ton's  surprise. 

"No;  have  you  seen  him?"  asked  the  agent, 
eagerly. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Where?"  asked  Wolverton,  quickly. 

"The  fact  is,  we  discovered  him  on  our  boat  soon 
after  we  started." 

"You  did!"  ejaculated  the  agent,  his  eyes  almost 
starting  out  of  his  head.  "Why  didn't  you  send 
him  back?" 

"Because  he  said  you  didn't  treat  him  well,  and 
begged  to  stay." 

"Young  man,  do  you  know  I  could  have  you  ar- 
rested for  abducting  my  nephew?"  demanded  Wol- 
verton, angrily. 


25  8  BOB  BURTON 

"Was  it  my  fault  that  he  hid  himself  on  my 
boat?" 

"Where  is  he  now?"  asked  Wolverton,  abruptly. 

"He  left  the  boat  at  a  point  on  the  way." 

"Where  was  it?" 

"You  must  excuse  my  answering  that  question. 
Sam  wouldn't  like  it." 

"What  difference  does  that  make?" 

"Sam  is  my  friend.  I  think,  however,  you  will 
soon  know,  as  he  means  to  come  back." 

Wolverton  smiled  triumphantly. 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  see  him,"  he  said,  significant- 
ly.   Bob  knew  what  that  meant. 

"You  must  excuse  me  now,  Mr.  Wolverton," 
said  Bob.  "I  must  hurry  home,  as  mother  will  be 
anxious  to  see  me." 

"Tell  her  I  shall  call  very  soon — on  business." 

"I  will." 

When  they  were  out  of  hearing  the  boys  laughed 
in  amusement.  They  had  a  surprise  in  store  for 
Wolverton. 


BOB  BURTON  259 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

CONCLUSION 

There  was  another  arrival  at  Burton's  Ranch 
the  next  day.  Sam  Wolverton  came  in  charge  of 
his  new-found  relative,  Robert  Granger.  They 
took  a  carriage,  and  reached  the  ranch  without  at- 
tracting the  attention  of  Aaron  Wolverton. 

Mrs.  Burton  welcomed  her  visitors,  and  ex- 
pressed great  pleasure  at  the  discovery  that  Sam's 
fortunes  were  likely  to  be  improved.  Mr.  Granger 
proposed  to  make  a  call  upon  the  faithless  guar- 
dian, but  was  saved  the  necessity,  as  Mr.  Wolver- 
ton called  early  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day. 
He  was  in  a  hurry  to  show  his  power,  and  foreclose 
the  mortgage.  It  was  arranged  that  Sam  and  Mr. 
Granger  should  remain  out  of  sight  at  first. 

Robert  answered  the  knock  at  the  door. 

"Is  your  mother  at  home?"  asked  Wolverton. 

"Yes,  sir;  will  you  walk  in?" 

"I  believe  I  will." 

He  entered  the  sitting-room,  and  Mrs.  Burton 
soon  made  her  appearance. 


260  BOB  BURTON 

"I  see  your  son  has  returned,  widder,"  remarked 
the  agent. 

"Yes;  it  seems  pleasant  to  have  him  back.  I 
missed  him  greatly." 

"Humph !  I  s'pose  so.  It's  a  pity  he  went  at  all." 

"I  don't  know  that." 

"Why,  it  stands  to  reason,"  said  Wolverton,  im- 
patiently.    "He  went  on  a  fool's  errand." 

"What  makes  you  say  that?" 

"He  might  have  known  a  boy  like  him  couldn't 
succeed  in  such  an  enterprise.  If  he  had  taken  up 
with  my  offer,  he  would  have  been  all  right." 

"He  said  you  offered  him  much  less  than  the 
market  price." 

"And  so  he  started  off  to  do  better,  and  lost  his 
whole  cargo,"  sneered  Wolverton,  smiling  unpleas- 
antly. 

Mrs.  Burton  was  silent. 

"I  came  to  tell  you  that  I  should  require  not  only 
the  interest,  but  a  payment  of  half  the  mortgage, 
according  to  the  conditions.  It  is  due  next  Satur- 
day." 

"Won't  you  wait,  under  the  circumstances,  Mr. 
Wolverton?" 

"No;  I  will  not." 

"Do  you  think  that  is  kind  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Burton. 

"Kindness  is  kindness,  and  business  is  "business, 
Mrs.  Burton.  Still,  I  am  willing  to  spare  you  on 
one  condition." 


BOB  BURTON  261 

"What  is  that?" 

"That  you  become  Mrs.  Wolverton." 

Mrs.  Burton  made  a  gesture  of  repulsion. 

"That  is  entirely  out  of  the  question,"  she  said. 

"Then  I  shall  show  no  mercy." 

Mrs.  Burton  went  to  the  door  and  called 
"Robert." 

Bob  entered. 

"Mr.  Wolverton  demands  his  interest  and  the 
payment  of  half  the  mortgage,  according  to  the 
terms." 

"It  is  not  due  yet." 

"It  will  be,  next  Saturday,"  said  the  agent,  tri- 
umphantly. "And  I  won't  listen  to  any  palaver  or 
any  entreaties  to  put  off  the  payment.  As  you  have 
made  your  bed  you  can  lie  upon  it." 

"What  do  you  propose  to  do  if  we  don't  pay?" 
asked  Bob. 

"Foreclose  the  mortgage,"  exclaimed  the  agent, 
bringing  down  his  fist  upon  the  table  before  him. 

"In  that  case,  I  think,  mother,  we  will  pay,"  said 
Bob,  quietly. 

"You  can't  pay !"  snarled  Wolverton. 

"That  is  where  you  are  mistaken,  Mr.  Wolver- 
ton. I  will  not  only  pay  what  you  ask,  but  I  am 
ready  to  take  up  the  whole  mortgage." 

"Is  the  boy  crazy?"  ejaculated  Wolverton. 

"Not  that  I  am  aware  of,"  answered  Bob, 
smiling. 


262  BOB  BURTON 

"You  haven't  got  the  money." 

"Mistaken  again,  Mr.  Wolverton." 

"When  did  you  get  it?"  gasped  Wolverton. 
"Wasn't  your  cargo  stolen?" 

"Yes,  by  emissaries  of  yours,"  was  Bob's  unex- 
pected reply;  "but  I  recovered  it,  and  sold  the  grain 
for  two  dollars  and  a  quarter  a  bushel." 

"You  recovered  it?"  said  Wolverton,  turning 
pale. 

"Yes;  and  the  men  that  stole  it  are  now  in  jail. 
I  have  a  letter  from  one  of  them,  declaring  that  he 
was  employed  by  you." 

"It's  a  lie!"  hastily  exclaimed  the  agent;  but  he 
looked  frightened. 

"I  have  reason  to  believe  it  is  true.  Mr.  Wol- 
verton, your  base  conspiracy  failed." 

"I  guess  I'll  go,"  said  Wolverton,  rising.  He 
wanted  time  to  think. 

"Not  just  yet.  Here  are  two  persons  who  wish 
to  see  you,"  and,  to  Wolverton's  surprise,  Sam  and 
Robert  Granger  entered  the  room. 

"You  didn't  expect  to  see  me,  Aaron  Wolver- 
ton," said  Captain  Granger.  "I  have  come  here 
with  your  nephew  to  demand  restitution  of  the 
property  which  you  have  appropriated  to  your  own 
use,  giving  him  to  understand  that  he  was  living  on 
charity." 

Wolverton  looked  like  a  man  in  a  state  of  col- 
lapse.   He  didn't  dare  to  deny  what  he  knew  Cap- 


BOB  BURTON  263 

tain  Granger  would  have  no  difficulty  in  proving. 
He  glared  at  Sam  as  if  he  would  like  to  have  him 
in  his  power  for  a  short  time. 

"Are  you  coming  back  with  me?"  he  asked. 

"I  will  answer  for  him,"  said  Captain  Granger. 
"Sam  is  of  an  age  when  the  law  authorizes  him  to 
select  his  own  guardian.  I  have  accepted  the  trust, 
and  I  demand  the  transfer  of  his  property  to  me." 

If  there  had  been  any  chance  of  success,  Wolver- 
ton  would  have  contested  the  matter,  and,  as  it  was, 
he  interposed  all  the  obstacles  in  his  power.  Final- 
ly, Sam  got  his  own,  however,  much  to  Wolverton's 
disappointment. 


Five  years  have  passed.  The  mortgage  on  Bur- 
ton's Ranch  has  long-  since  neen  paid,  and  Bob  is 
making  a  handsome  profit  every  year  for  his 
mother  and  himself.  Clip  is  still  a  member  of  the 
family,  and,  though  he  cannot  be  called  a  model  of 
industry,  he  is  a  favorite  through  his  good  nature 
and  love  of  fun.  He  is  thoroughly  loyal  to  the 
Burtons,  and  hates  Wolverton  as  much  as  it  is  in 
his  nature  to  hate  anybody.  Wolverton  is  getting 
worse  in  temper  as  he  grows  older,  and  his  ill- 
gotten  gains  do  not  bring  him  happiness.  The  sight 
of  Bob's  prosperity  is  gall  and  wormwood  to  him; 
but  for  this  Bob  cares  little.    Sam  is  employed  in  a 


264  BOB  BURTON 

store  under  his  new  guardian's  charge,  but  every 
summer  he  comes  to  Burton's  Ranch  and  stays  a 
month,  where  he,  Bob  and  Clip  have  fine  times. 
Mrs.  Burton  is  happy  in  her  prosperity,  and  is 
thankful  to  God  for  having  given  her  so  good  a 
son.  Bob  has  made  more  than  one  trip  down  the 
river,  but  none  so  eventful  as  the  one  described  in 
this  story. 


THE  END        ^— - -y 


/  *    ^  @ 


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Nicaragua.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

Roy  and  Dean  Coloney,  with  their  guide  Tongla,  leave  their  father's 
Indigo  plantation  to  visit  the  wonderful  ruins  of  an  ancient  city.  The 
boys  eagerly  explore  the  temples  of  an  extinct  race  and  discover  three 
golden  images  cunningly  hidden  away.  They  escape  with  the  greatest 
difficulty.  Eventually  they  reach  safety  with  their  golden  prizes.  We 
doubt  if  there  ever  was  written  a  more  entertaining  story  than  "The 
Treasure    Finders." 

Jack,  the  Hunchback.    A  Story  of  the  Coast  of  Maine. 

By  James  Otis.    Price  $1.00. 

This  is  the  story  of  a  little  hunchback  who  lived  on  Cape  Elizabeth, 
on  the  coast  of  Maine.  His  trials  and  successes  are  most  interesting. 
From  first  to  last  nothing  stays  the  interest  of  the  narrative.  It  bears  us 
along  as  on  a  stream  whose  current  varies  In  direction,  but  never  loses 
its   force. 

With  Washington  at  Monmouth:    A   Story   of  Three 

Philadelphia   Boys.     By  James  Otis.     12mo,    ornamental  cloth,   olivine 

edges,  illustrated,  price  $1.50. 

Three  Philadelphia  lads  assist  the  American  spies  and  make  regular 
and  frequent  visits  to  Valley  Forge  in  the  Winter  while  the  British 
occupied  the  city.  The  story  abounds  with  pictures  of  Colonial  life 
skillfully  drawn,  and  the  glimpses  of  Washington's  soldiers  which  are 
given  shown  that  the  work  has  not  been  hastily  done,  or  without  con- 
siderable study.  The  story  is  wholesome  and  patriotic  in  tone,  as  are 
all   of   Mr.    Otis'    works. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the- 
publisher,   A,   L.   BURT,   S2-68  Duane   Street,   New  York. 


4:       A.  L.  burt's  books  for  young  people. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

With  Lafayette  at  Yorktown:  A  Story  of  How  Two 

Boys  Joined  the  Continental  Army.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  ornamental 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  illustrated,  price  $1.50. 

Two  lads  from  Portm»uth,  N.  H.,  attempt  to  enlist  in  the  Colonial 
Army,  and  are  given  employment  as  spies.  There  Is  no  lack  of  exciting 
incidents  which  the  youthful  reader  craves,  but  it  is  healthful  excite- 
ment brimming  with  facts  which  every  boy  should  be  familiar  with, 
and  while  the  reader  is  following  the  adventures  of  Ben  Jaffrays  and 
Ned  Allen  he  is  acquiring  a  fund  of  historical  lore  which  will  remain 
in  his  memory  long  after  that  which  he  has  memorized  from  text- 
books  has    been    forgotten. 

At  the  Siege  of  Havana.    Being  the  Experiences  of 

Three  Boys  Serving  under  Israel  Putnam  in  1762.    By  James  Otis.    12mo, 

ornamental  cloth,  olivine  edges,  illustrated,  price  $1.50. 

"At  the  Siege  of  Havana"  deals  with  that  portion  of  the  Island's 
history  when  the  English  king  captured  the  capital,  thanks  to  the 
assistance  given  by  the  troops  from  New  England,  led  in  part  by  Col. 
Israel    Putnam. 

The  principal  characters  are  Darius  Lunt,  the  lad  who,  represented  as 
telling  the  story,  and  his  comrades,  Robert  Clement  and  Nicholas 
Vallet.  Colonel  Putnam  also  figures  to  considerable  extent,  necessarily, 
in  the  tale,  and  the  whole  forms  one  of  the  most  readable  stories  founded  on 
historical    facts. 

The  Defense  of  Fort  Henry.      A  Story  of  Wheeling 

Creek  in  1777.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  ornamental  cloth,  olivine  edges, 

illustrated,  price  $1.50. 

Nowhere  in  the  history  of  our  country  can  be  found  more  heroic  or 
thrilling  incidents  than  in  the  story  of  those  brave  men  and  women 
Who  founded  the  settlement  of  Wheeling  in  the  Colony  of  Virginia.  The 
recital  of  what  Elizabeth  Zane  did  is  in  itself  as  heroic  a  story  as  can 
be  imagined.  The  wondrous  bravery  displayed  by  Major  McCulloch 
and  his  gallant  comrades,  the  sufferings  of  the  colonists  and  their  sacrifice 
of  blood  and  life,  stir  the  blood  of  old  as  well  as  young  readers. 

The  Capture  of  the  Laughing  Mary.    A  Story  of  Three 

New  York  Boys  in  1776.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  ornamental  cloth,  olivine 

edges,  price  $1.50. 

"During  the  British  occupancy  of  New  York,  at  the  outbreak  of  the 
Revolution,  a  Yankee  lad  hears  of  the  plot  to  take  General  Washington's 
person,  and  calls  in  two  companions  to  assist  the  patriot  cause.  They 
do  some  astonishing  things,  and.  Incidentally,  lay  the  way  for  an 
American  navy  later,  by  the  exploit  which  gives  its  name  te  the 
work.  Mr.  Otis'  books  are  too  well  known  to  require  any  particular 
commendation  to  the  young." — Evening  Post. 

With  Warren  at  Bunker  Hill.    A  Story  of  the  Siege  of 

Boston.     By  James  Otis.     12mo,  ornametnal  cloth,  olivine  edges,  illus- 
trated, price  $1.50. 

"This  Is  a  tale  of  the  siege  of  Boston,  which  opens  on  the  day  after 
the  doings  at  Lexington  and  Concord,  with  a  description  of  home  life 
in  Boston,  introduces  the  reader  to  the  British  camp  at  Charlestown, 
shows  Gen.  Warren  at  home,  describes  what  a  boy  thought  of  the 
battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  and  closes  with  the  raising  of  the  siege.  The 
three  heroes,  George  Wentworth,  Ben  Scarlett  and  an  old  ropemaker, 
Incur  the  enmity  of  a  young  Tory,  who  causes  them  many  adventures 
the  boys  will  like  to  read." — Detroit  Free  Press. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,   A.  L.  BURT,  52-58  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOB  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  5 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

With  the  Swamp  Fox.    The  Story  of  General  Marion's 

Spies.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

This  story  deals  with  General  Francis  Marion's  heroic  struggle  in  the 
Carolinas.  General  Marion's  arrival  to  take  command  of  these  brave 
men  and  rough  riders  is  pictured  as  a  boy  might  have  seen  it,  and 
although  the  story  Is  devoted  to  what  the  lads  did,  the  Swamp  Fox 
is  ever  present   in   the   mind   of   the   reader. 

On  the  Kentucky  Frontier.     A  Story  of  the  Fighting 

Pioneers  of  the  West.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1. 

In  the  history  of  our  country  there  is  no  more  thrilling  story  than 
that  of  the  work  done  on  the  Mississippi  river  by  a  handful  of  frontiers- 
men. Mr.  Otis  takes  the  reader  on  that  famous  expedition  from  the 
arrival  of  Major  Clarke's  force  at  Corn  Island,  until  Kaskaskia  was 
captured.  He  relates  that  part  of  Simon  Kenton's  life  history  which 
is  not  usually  touched  upon  either  by  the  historian  or  the  story  teller. 
This  is  one  of  the  most  entertaining  books  for  young  people  which  haa 
been    published. 

Sarah  Dillard's  Ride.      A   Story  of  South  Carolina  in 

in  1780.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"This  book  deals  with  the  Carolinas  in  1780,  giving  a  wealth  of  detail  of 
the  Mountain  Men  who  struggled  so  valiantly  against  the  king's  troops., 
Major  Ferguson  is  the  prominent  British  officer  of  the  story,  which  i& 
told  as  though  coming  from  a  youth  who  experienced  these  adventures. 
In  this  way  the  famous  ride  of  Sarah  Dillard  is  brought  out  as  an 
incident  of  the  plot." — Boston  Journal.  *■ 

A  Tory  Plot.     A  Story  of  the  Attempt  to  Kill  General 

Washington.    By  James  Otis.    13mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"  'A  Tory  Plot'  is  the  story  of  two  lads  who  overhear  something: 
of  the  plot  originated  during  the  Revolution  by  Gov.  Tryon  to  capture 
or  murder  Washington.  They  communicate  their  knowledge  to  Gen,. 
Putnam  and  are  commissioned  by  him  to  play  the  role  of  detectives 
in  the  matter.  They  do  so,  and  meet  with  many  adventures  and  hair^ 
breadth  escapes.  The  boys  are,  of  course,  mythical,  but  they  serve  to  en- 
able the  author  to  put  into  very  attractive  shape  much  valuable  knowledge 
concerning  one  phase  of  the  Revolution." — Pittsburgh  Times. 

A  Traitor's  Escape.     A  Story  of  the  Attempt  to  Seize 

Benedict  Arnold.    By  James  Otis.    12rno,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"This  is  a  tale  with  stirring  scenes  depicted  in  each  chapter,  bringing 
clearly  before  the  mind  the  glorious  deeds  of  the  early  settlers  in  this 
country.  In  an  historical  work  dealing  with  this  country's  past,  no 
plot  can  bold  the  attention  closer  than  this  one,  which  describes  the 
attempt  and  partial  success  of  Benedict  Arnold's  escape  to  New  fork, 
where  he  remained  as  the  guest  of  Sir  Henry  Clinton.  All  those  who 
actually  figured  in  the  arrest  of  the  traitor;  as  well  as  Gen.  Washing-  ' 
ton,  are  included  as  characters." — Albany  Union. 

A  Cruise  with  Paul  Jones.     A  Story  of  Naval  Warfare 

in  1776.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.09. 

"This  story  takes  up  that  portion  of  Paul  Jones'  adventurous  life 
When  he  was  hovering  off  the  British  coast,  watching  for  aa  oppor- 
tunity to  strike  the  enemy  a  blow.  It  deals  more  particularly  with 
fais  descent  upon  Whitehaven,  the  seizure  of  Lady  Selkirk's  plate,  and 
the  famous  battle  with  the  Brake.  The  bey  who  figures  in  the  tale 
is  one  who  was  taken  from  a  derelict  by  Paul  Jones  shortly  after  thi» 
particular  cruise  was  begun." — Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sort  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  By  th©- 
publisher,  A.  L.  BURT,   52-58  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


C  A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

Corporal  Lige's  Eecruit.    A  Story  of  Crown  Point  and 

Ticonderoga.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1,00. 

"In  'Corporal  Lige's  Recruit,'  Mr.  Otis  tells  the  amusing  story  of  an 
old  soldier,  proud  of  his  record,  who  had  served  the  king  in  '58,  and  who 
takes  the  lad,  Isaac  Rice,  as  his  'personal  recruit.'  The  lad  acquits 
himself  superbly.  Col.  Ethan  Allen  'in  the  name  of  God  and  the  con- 
tinental congress,'  infuses  much  martial  spirit  into  the  narrative,  which 
will  arouse  the  keenest  interest  as  it  proceeds.  Crown  Point,  Ticon- 
deroga,  Benedict  Arnold  and  numerous  other  famous  historical  names 
appear  In  this  dramatic  tale." — Boston  Globe. 

Morgan,  the  Jersey  Spy.  A  Story  of  the  Siege  of  York- 
town  in  1781.  By  James  Otis.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 
'•'The  two  lads  who  are  utilized  by  the  author  to  emphasize  the  details 
of  the  work  done  during  that  memorable  time  were  real  boys  who  lived 
on  the  banks  of  the  York  river,  and  who  aided  the  Jersey  spy  in  his 
dangerous  occupation.  In  the  guise  of  fishermen  the  lads  visit  York- 
town,  are  suspected  of  being  spies,  and  put  under  arrest.  Morgan  risks 
his  life  to  save  them.  The  final  escape,  the  thrilling  encounter  with  a 
squad  of  red  coats,  when  they  are  exposed  equally  to  the  bullets  of 
friends  and  foes,  told  in  a  masterly  fashion,  makes  of  this  volume  one 
of  the  most  entertaining  books  of  the  year." — Inter-Ocean. 

The  Young  Scout:  The  Story  of  a  West  Point  Lieu- 
tenant. By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00 
The  crafty  Apache  chief  Geronimo  but  a  few  years  ago  was  the 
most  terrible  scourge  of  the  southwest  border.  The  author  has  woven, 
In  a  tale  of  thrilling  interest,  all  the  incidents  of  Geronimo's  last  raid. 
The  hero  is  Lieutenant  James  Decker,  a  recent  graduate  of  West  Point. 
Ambitious  to  distinguish  himself  the  young  man  takes  many  a  desperate 
chance  against  the  enemy  and  on  more  than  one  occasion  narrowly 
escapes  with  his  life.  In  our  opinion  Mr.  Ellis  is  the  best  writer  of 
Indian   stories   now   before   the   public. 

Adrift  in  the  Wilds:  The  Adventures  of  Two  Ship- 
wrecked Boys.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  ISmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 
Elwood  Brandon  and  Howard  Lawrence  are  en  route  for  San  Fran- 
cisco. Off  the  coast  of  California  the  steamer  takes  fire.  The  two  boy3 
reach  the  shore  with  several  of  the  passengers.  Young  Brandon  be- 
comes separated  from  his  party  and  is  captured  by  hostile  Indians, 
but  is  afterwards  rescued.  This  is  a  very  entertaining  narrative  of 
Southern    California. 

A  Young  Hero;  or,  Fighting  to  Win.    By  Edward  S. 

Ellis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

This  story  tells  how  a  valuable  solid  silver  service  was  stolen  from 
the  Misses  Perkinpine,  two  very  old  and  simple  minded  ladies.  Fred 
Sheldon,  the  hero  of  this  story,  undertakes  to  discover  the  thieves  and 
have  them  arrested.  After  much  time  spent  in  detective  work,  he 
succeeds  in  discovering  the  silver  plate  and  winning  the  reward.  The 
story  is  told  in  Mr.  Ellis'  most  fascinating  style.  Every  boy  will  be 
glad  to  read  this  delightful  book. 

Lostl  in  the  Kockies.    A  Story  of  Adventure  in  the 

Rocky  Mountains.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1. 

Incident  succeeds  Incident,  and  adventure  Is  piled  upon  adventure, 
and  at  the  end  the  reader,  be  he  boy  or  man,  will  have  experienced 
breathless  enjoyment  in  this  romantic  story  describing  many  adventures  in 
the  Rockies  and  among  the  Indians. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BURT,   52-68  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  71 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

A  Jaunt  Through  Java:    The  Story  of  a  Journey  to 

the  Sacred  Mountain.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated, 

price  $1.00. 

The  interest  of  this  story  is  found  in  the  thrilling  adventures  of 
two  cousins,  Hermon  and  Eustace  Hadley,  on  their  trip  acrosss  the  island 
of  Java,  from  Samarang  to  the  Sacred  Mountain.  In  a  land  where  the 
Royal  Bengal  tiger,  the  rhinoceros,  and  other  fierce  beasts  are  to  be 
met  with,  it  is  but  natural  that  the  heroes  of  this  book  should  have  a 
lively  experience.     There  is  not  a  dull  page  in  the  book. 

The  Boy  Patriot.     A  Story  of  Jack,  the  Young  Friend 

of  Washington.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  illus- 
trated, price  $1.50. 

"There  are  adventures  of  all  kinds  for  the  hero  and  his  friends,  whose 
pluck  and  ingenuity  in  extricating  themselves  from  awkward  fixes  are 
always  equal  to  the  occasion.  It  is  an  excellent  story  full  of  honest, 
manly,  patriotic  efforts  on  the  part  of  the  hero.  A  very  vivid  description 
of  the  battle  of  Trenton  is  also  found  in  this  story." — Journal  of 
Education. 

A  Yankee  Lad's  Pluck.    How  Bert  Larkin  Saved  his 

Father's  Ranch  in  Porto  Rico.    By  Wm.  P.  Chipman.    12mo,  cloth,  illus- 
trated, price  $1.00. 

"Bert  Larkin,  the  hero  of  the  story,  early  excites  our  admiration, 
and  is  altogether  a  fine  character  such  as  boys  will  delight  in,  whilst 
the  story  of  his  numerous  adventures  is  very  graphically  told.  This 
will,  we  think,  prove  one  of  the  most  popular  boys'  books  this  season."— 
Gazette. 

A  Brave  Defense.    A  Story  of  the  Massacre  at  Fort 

Griswold  in  1781.    By  William  P.  Chipman.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price 

$1.00. 

Perhaps  no  more  gallant  fight  against  fearful  odds  took  place  during 
the  Revolutionary  War  than  that  at  Fort  Griswold,  Groton  Heights,  Conn., 
in  1781.  The  boys  are  real  boys  who  were  actually  on  the  muster  rolls, 
either  at  Fort  Trumbull  on  the  New  London  side,  or  of  Fort  Griswold  on 
the  Groton  side  of  the  Thames.  The  youthful  reader  who  follows  Halsey 
Sanford  and  Levi  Dart  and  Tom  Malleson,  and  their  equally  brave  com- 
rades, through  their  thrilling  adventures  will  be  learning  something  more 
than  historical  facts;  they  will  be  imbibing  lessons  of  fidelity,  of  bravery, 
of  heroism,  and  of  manliness,  which  must  prove  serviceable  in  the  arena 
of  life. 

The  Young  Minuteman.    A  Story  of  the  Capture  of 

General  Prescott  in  1777.    By  William  P.  Chipman.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated, 

price  $1.00. 

This  story  is  based  upon  actual  events  which  occurred  during  the  British 
occupation  of  the  waters  of  Narraeansett  Bay.  Darius  Wale  and  William 
Northrop  belong  to,  "the  coast  patrol."  The  story  is  a  strong  one,  dealing 
only  with  actual  events.  There  is,  however,  no  lack  of  thrilling  adventure, 
and  every  lad  who  is  fortunate  enough  to  obtain  the  book  will  find  not 
only  that  his  historical  knowledge  is  increased,  but  that  his  own  patriotism 
and  love  of  country  are  deepened. 

For  the  Temple:     A  Tale  of  the  Fall  of  Jerusalem. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.  With  illustrations  by  S.  J.  Solomon.  12mo,  cloth,  olivine 
edges,  price  fl. 00. 

"Mr.  Henty's  graphic  prose  picture  of  the  hopeless  Jewish  resistance 
to  Roman  sway  adds  another  leaf  to  his  record  of  the  famous  wars  of 
the  world.     The  book  is  one  of  Mr.  Henty's  cleverest  efforts." — Graphic. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  ths 
publisher,  A.  L.  BXTRT,  52-58  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


8        A.  L.  BURT'S  books  for  young  people. 
BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

Roy  Gilbert's  Search:    A  Tale  of  the  Great  Lakes.    By 

Wm.  P.  Ohipman.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  §1.00. 

A  deep  mystery  hangs  over  the  parentage  of  Roy  Gilbert.  He  arranges 
with  two  schoolmates  to  make  a  tour  of  the  Great  Lakes  on  a  steam 
launch.  The  three  boys  visit  many  points  of  interest  on  the  lakes. 
Afterwards  the  lads  rescue  an  elderly  gentleman  and  a  lady  from  a  sink- 
ing yacht.  Later  on  the  boys  narrowly  escape  with  their  lives.  The 
hero  is  a  manly,  self-reliant  boy,  whose  adventures  will  be  followed 
with    interest. 

The  Slate  Picker:     The  Story  of  a  Boy's  Life  in  the 

Coal  Mines.    By  Harry  Prentice.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

This  is  a  story  of  a  boy's  life  in  the  coal  mines  of  Pennsylvania. 
Ben  Burton,  the  hero,  had  a  hard  road  to  travel,  but  by  grit  and  energy 
he  advanced  step  by  step  until  he  found  himself  called  upon  to  fill  the 
position  of  chief  engineer  of  the  Kohinoor  Coal  Company.  This  is  a 
book  of  extreme  interest  to  every  boy  reader. 

The  Boy  Cruisers;  or,  Paddling  in  Florida.    By  St. 

George  Rathborne.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1-00 
Andrew  George  and  Rowland  Carter  start  on  a  canoe  trip  along  the 
Gulf  coast,  from  Key  West  to  Tampa,  Florida.  Their  first  adventure 
is  with  a  pair  of  rascals  who  steal  their  boats.  Next  they  run  into 
a  gale  in  the  Gulf.  After  that  they  have  a  lively  time  with  alli- 
gators and  Andrew  gets  into  trouble  with  a  band  of  Seminole  Indians. 
Mr.  Rathborne  knows  just  how  to  interest  the  boys,  and  lads  who  are 
in  search  of  a  rare  treat  will  do  well  to.  read  this  entertaining  story. 

Captured  by  Zulus:     A  Story  of  Trapping  in  Africa. 

By  Harry  Prentice.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

This  story  details  the  adventures  of  two  lads,  Dick  Elsworth  and  Bob 
Harvey,  in  the  wilds  of  South  Africa.  By  stratagem  the  Zulus  captur* 
Dick  and  Bob  and  take  them  tu  their  principal  kraal  or  village.  The 
lads  escape  death  by  dig:  ing  their  way  out  of  the  prison  hut  by  night. 
They  are  pursued,  but  the  Zulus  finally  give  up  pursuit.  Mr.  Prentice 
tells  exactly  how  wild-beast  collectors  secure  specimens  on  their  native 
stamping  grounds,   and  these  descriptions  make  very  entertaining  rending. 

Tom  the  Ready;  or,  Up  from  the  Lowest.  By  Ran- 
dolph Hill.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

This  is  a  dramatic  narrative  of  the  unaided  rise  of  a  fearless,  ambi- 
tious boy  from  the  lowest  round  of  fortune's  ladder  to  wealth  and  the 
governorship  of  his  native  State.  Tom  Seacomb  begins  life  with  a  pur- 
pose, and  eventually  overcomes  those  who  oppose  him.  How  he  manages 
to  win  the  battle  is  told  by  Mr.  Hill  in  a  masterful  way  that  thrills 
the  reader  and  holds  his  attention  and  sympathy  to  the  end. 

Captain  Kidd's  Gold:  The  True  Story  of  an  Adven- 
turous Sailor  Boy.  By  James  Franklin  Fitts.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated, 
price  $1.00. 

There  is  something  fascinating  to  the  average  youth  In  the  very  idea 
of  buried  treasure.  A  vision  arises  before  his  eyes  of  swarthy  Portu- 
guese and  Spanish  rascals,  with  black  beards  and  gleaming  eyes.  There 
were  many  famous  sea  rovers,  but  none  more  celebrated  than  Capt.  Kidd. 
Paul  Jones  Garry  Inherits  a  document  which  locates  a  considerable 
treasure  buried  by  two  of  Kidd's  crew.  The  hero  of  this  book  is  an 
ambitious,  persevering  lad,  of  salt-water  New  England  ancestry,  and  his 
efforts  to  reach  the  island  and  secure  the  money  form  one  of  the  moat 
absorbing    tales    for   our   youth    that   has   come    from    the    press. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  tht5 
publisher,  A.   L.   BURT,   52-68  Duane  Strest,   New  York. 


A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  9 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

The  Boy  Explorers:    The  Adventures  of  Two  Boys  in 

Alaska.    By  Harry  Prentice.    l2mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

Two  boys,  Raymond  and  Spencer  Manning,  travel  to  Alaska  to  join 
their  father  in  search  of  their  uncle.  On  their  arrival  at  Sitka  the  boys 
with  an  Indian  guide  set  off  across  the  mountains.  The  trip  is  fraught 
with  perils  that  test  the  lads'  courage  to  the  utmost.  All  through  their 
exciting  adventures  the  lads  demonstrate  what  can  be  accomplished  by 
pluck  and  resolution,  and  their  experience  makes  one  of  the  most  in- 
teresting  tales   ever   written. 

The   Island   Treasure;   or,    Harry   Darrel's   Fortune. 

By  Frank  H.  Converse.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

Harry  Darrel,  having  received  a  nautical  training  on  a  school-ship,  ia 
bent  on  going  to  sea.  A  runaway  horse  changes  his  prospects.  Harry 
saves  Dr.  Gregg  from  drowning  and  afterward  becomes  sailing-master 
of  a  sloop  yacht.  Mr.  Converse's  stories  possess  a  charm  of  their  own 
which  is  appreciated  by  lads  who  delight  in  good  healthy  tales  that 
smack   of  salt  water. 

Guy  Harris:    The  Eunaway.    By  Harry  Castlemon. 

12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

Guy  Harris  lived  in  a  small  city  on  the  shore  of  one  of  the  Great 
Lakes.  He  is  persuaded  to  go  to  sea,  and  gets  a  glimpse  of  the  rough 
side  of  life  In  a  sailor's  boarding  house.  He  ships  on  a  vessel  and  for 
Ave  months  leads  a  hard  life.  The  book  will  interest  boys  generally 
on  account  of  its  graphic  style.  This  is  one  of  Castlemon's  most  attract- 
ive stories. 

Julian  Mortimer:     A  Brave  Boy's  Struggle  for  Home 

and  Fortune.    By  Harry  Castlemon.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1. 

The  scene  of  the  story  lies  west  of  the  Mississippi  River,  in  the  days 
when  emigrants  made  their  perilous  way  across  the  great  plains  to  the 
land  of  gold.  There  is  an  attack  upon  the  wagon  train  by  a  large  party 
of  Indians.  Our  hero  is  a  'ad  of  uncommon  nerve  and  pluck.  Befriended 
by  a  stalwart  trapper,  a  real  rough  diamond,  our  hero  achieves  the  most 
happy  results. 

By  Pike  and  Dyke:    A  Tale  of  the  Rise  of  the  Dutch 

Republic.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With   illustrations   by   Maynard   Brown. 

12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Boys  with  a  turn  for  historical  research  will  be  enchanted  with  the 
book,  while  the  rest  who  only  care  for  adventure  will  be  students  in  spite 
of  themselves." — St.  James's  Gazette. 

St.  George  for  England:  A  Tale  of  Cressy  and  Poi- 
tiers. By  G.  A.  Henty.  With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.  12mo, 
cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"A  story  of  very  great  interest  for  boys.  In  his  own  forcible  style 
the  author  has  endeavored  to  show  that  determination  and  enthusiasm 
can  accomplish  marvellous  results;  and  that  courage  is  generally  accom- 
panied by  magnanimity  and  gentleness." — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

Captain  Bayley's  Heir:    A  Tale  of  the  Gold  Fields  of 

California.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  H.  M.  Paget.    12moi 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Mr.  Henty  is  careful  to  mingle  Instruction  with  entertainment;  and 
the  humorous  touches,  especially  in  the  sketch  of  John  Holl,  the  West- 
minster dustman,  Dickens  himself  could  hardly  have  excelled." — Chris- 
tian Leader. ______^_______^___ 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BURT,   52-58  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


10       A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS.  ~ 

Budd  Boyd's  Triumph;  or,  The  Boy  Firm  of  Fox  Island. 

By  William  P.  Chipman.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

The  scene  of  this  story  is  laid  on  the  upper  part  of  Narragansett  Bay, 
and  the  leading  incidents  have  a  strong  salt-water  flavor.  The  two 
boys,  Budd  Boyd  and  Judd  Floyd,  being  ambitious  and  clear  sighted, 
form  a  partnership  to  catch  and  sell  fish.  Budd's  pluck  and  good  sense 
carry  him  through  many  troubles.  In  following  the  career  of  the  boy 
firm  of  Boyd  &  Floyd,  the  youthful  reader  will  find  a  useful  lesson — 
that  industry  and  perseverance  are  bound  to  lead  to  ultimate  success. 

lost  in  the  Canyon :    Sam  Willett's  Adventures  on  the 

Great  Colorado.  By  Alfred  R.  Calhoun.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1, 
This  story  hinges  on  a  fortune  left  to  Sam  Willett,  the  hero,  and  the 
fact  that  it  will  pass  to  a  disreputable  relative  if  the  lad  dies  before 
he  shall  have  reached  his  majority.  The  story  of  his  father's  peril  and 
of  Sam's  desperate  trip  down  the  great  canyon  on  a  raft,  and  how  the 
party  finally  escape  from  their  perils  is  described  in  a  graphic  style 
that  stamps  Mr.  Calhoun  as  a  master  of  his  art. 

Captured  by  Apes:     The  Wonderful  Adventures  of  a 

Young  Animal  Trainer.    By  Harry  Prentice.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated. 

price  $1.00. 

Philip  Garland,  a  young  animal  collector  and  trainer,  sets  sail  for 
Eastern  seas  in  quest  of  a  new  stock  of  living  curiosities.  The  vessel 
Is  wrecked  off  the  coast  of  Borneo,  and  young  Garland  is  cast  ashore 
on  a  small  island,  and  caDtured  by  the  anes  that  overrun  the  place. 
Very  novel  indeed  is  the  way  by  which  the  young  man  escapes  death. 
Mr.  Prentice  is  a  writer  of  undoubted  skill. 

Under  Brake's  Flag:     A  Tale  of  the  Spanish  Main. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.     12mo,  cloth, 

olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"There  is  not  a  dull  chapter,  nor,  indeed,  a  dull  page  in  the  book;  but 
the  author  has  so  carefully  worked  up  his  subject  that  the  exciting 
deeds  of  his  heroes  are  never  incongruous  nor  absurd." — Observer, 

By  Sheer  Pluck:    A  Tale  of  the  Ashanti  War.    By 

G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine 

edges,  price  $1.00. 

The  author  has  woven,  in  a  tale  of  thrilling  interest,  all  the  details 
of  the  Ashanti  campaign,  of  which  he  was  himself  a  witness. 

"Mr.  Henty  keeps  up  his  reputation  as  a  writer  of  boys'  stories.  'By 
Sheer  Pluck'  will  be  eagerly  read." — Athensum. 

With  Lee  in  Virginia :    A  Story  of  the  American  Civil 

War.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.    12mo, 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"One  of  the  best  stories  for  lads  which  Mr.  Henty  has  vet  written. 
The  picture  is  full  of  life  and  color,  and  the  stirring  and  romantic  inci- 
dents are  skillfully  blended  with  the  personal  interest  and  charm  of  the 
Btory . ' ' — Standard. 

By  England's  Aid;  or,  The  Freeing  of  the  Netherlands 

(1585-1604).    By  G.  A.  Henty.   With  illustrations  by  Alfred  Pearse.    12mo, 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"It  is  an  admirable  book  for  youngsters.  It  overflows  with  stirring 
Incident  and  exciting  adventure,  and  the  color  of  the  era  and  of  the 
scene  are  finely  reproduced.  The  illustrations  add  to  its  attractiveness."— 
Boston  Gazette.         

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  b.7  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BURT,   52-58  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.        11 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

By  Right  of  Conquest;  or,    With    Cortez  in    Mexico. 

By  G.   A.   Henty.    With  illustrations  by  W.  S.  Stagey.    t2mo,  cloth, 

olivine  edges,  price  $1.50. 
"  The  conquest  of  Mexico  by  a  small  band  of  resolute  men  under  the 
magnificent  leadership  of  Cortez  Is  always  rightfully  ranked  among  the  most 
romantic  and  daring  exploits  in  history.  'By  Right  of  Conquest*  is  the 
nearest  approach  to  a  perfectly  successful  historical  tale  that  Mr.  Henty 
has  yet  published."— Academy. 

For  Name  and  Fame;   or,   Through  Afghan  Passes. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.    ISino,  cloth, 

olivine  edges,  price  $1 .00. 

"Not  only  a  rousing  story,  replete  with  all  the  varied  forms  of  excite- 
ment of  a  campaign,  but,  what  is  still  more  useful,  an  account  of  a 
territory  and  its  inhabitants  winch  must  for  a  long  time  possess  a  supreme 
interest  for  Englishmen,  as  being  the  key  to  our  Indian  Empire." — 
Glasgow  Herald. 

The  Bravest  of  the  Brave;  or,  With  Peterborough  in 

Spain.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations   by  H.  IvI.    Paget.    12mo 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Mr.  Henty  never  loses  sight  of  the  moral  purpose  of  his  work — to 
enforce  the  doctrine  of  courage  and  truth,  mercy  and  loving  kindness, 
as  indispensable  to  the  making  of  a  gentleman.  Boys  will  reau  'The 
Bravest  of  the  Brave'  with  pleasure  and  profit;  of  that  we  are  quite 
sure." — Daily    Telegraph. 

The  Cat  of  Bubastes :  A  Story  of  Ancient  Egypt.     By 

G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"The  story,  from  the  critical  moment  of  the  killing  of  the  sacred  cat 
to  the  perilous  exodus  into  Asia  with  which  it  closes,  is  very  skillfully 
constructed  and  full  of  exciting  adventures.  It  is  admirably  illustrated." 
— Saturday  Review. 

Bonnie  Prince  Charlie:    A  Tale  of  Fontenoy  and  Cul- 

loden.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Bro^nf.    12mo, 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Ronald,  the  hero,  Is  very  like  the  hero  of  'Quentin  Durward.'  The 
lad's  journey  across  France,  and  his  hairbreadth  escapes,  ma:.ea  up  as 
good  a  narrative  of  the  kind  as  we  have  ever  read.  For  freshness  of 
treatment  and  variety  of  incident  Mr.  Henty  has  surpassed  himself."— 
Spectator. 

With  Clive  in  India;  or,  The  Beginnings  of  an  Empire. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.    12nio,  cloth, 

olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"He  has  taken  a  period  of  Indian  history  of  the  most  vital  impor- 
tance, and  he  has  embroidered  on  the  historical  facts  a  story  which  of 
Itself  is  deeply  interesting.  Young  people  assuredly  will  be  delighted 
with  the   volume." — Scotsman. 

In  the  Reign  of  Terror:  The  Adventures  of  a  West- 
minster Boy.  By  G.  A..  Henty.  With  illustrations  by  J.  Schonberg. 
13mo,  cloth,  oliviue  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Harry  Sandwith,  the  Westminster  boy,  may  fairly  be  said  to  beat 
Mr.  Henty's  reeord.  His  adventures  will  delight  boys  by  the  audacity 
and  peril  they  depict.  The  story  is  one  of  Mr.  Henty's  best." — Saturday 
Review. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  thft 
publisher,  A.  L.  BURT,  52-58  Duaue  Street,  New  York, 


12      A.  L.  BURT'S  books  for  young  people. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

The  Lion  of  the  North:    A  Tale  of  Gustavus  Adolphus 

and  the  "Wars  of  Religion.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  John 

Schonberg.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"A  praiseworthy  attempt  to  Interest  British  youth  in  the  great  deeds 
of  the  Scotch  Brigade  in  the  wars  of  Gustavus  Adolphus.  Mackey,  Hep- 
burn, and  Munro  live  again  in  Mr.  Henty's  pages,  as  those  deserve  to 
live  whose  disciplined  bands  formed  really  the  germ  of  the  modern 
British  army." — Athenteum. 

The  Dragon  and  the  Raven;    or,   The   Days  of  King 

Alfred.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  C.  J.  Sta>tland.    12mo, 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

In  this  story  the  author  gives  an  account  of  the  fierce  struggle  be- 
tween Saxon  and  Dane  for  supremacy  in  England,  and  presents  a  vivid 
picture  of  the  misery  and  ruin  to  which  the  country  was  reduced  by  the 
ravages  of  the  sea-wolves.  The  story  is  treated  in  a  manner  most  at- 
tractive  to  the   boyish   reader." — Athenaeum. 

The  Young  Carthaginian:    A  Story  of  the  Times  of 

Hannibal.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  C.  J.  Staniland.  12mo, 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Well  constructed  and  vividly  teld.  Prom  first  to  last  nothing  stays 
the  interest  of  the  narrative.  It  bears  us  along  as  on  a  stream  whose 
current  varies  in  direction,  but  never  loses  its  force." — Saturday  Eeview, 

In  Freedom's  Cause:     A  Story  of  Wallace  and  Bruce. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.    12mo,  cloth, 

olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"It  is  written  in  the  author's  best  style.  Full  of  the  wildest  and  most 
remarkable  achievements,  it  is  a  tale  of  great  interest,  which  a  boy,  once 
he  has  begun  it,  will  not  willingly  put  one  side." — The  Schoolmaster. 

With  Wolfe  in  Canada;    or,  The  Winning  of  a  Con- 

tinent.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.    12mo, 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"A  model  of  what  a  boys'  story-book  should  be.  Mr.  Henty  has  a 
great  power  of  infusing  into  the  dead  facts  of  history  new  life,  and  as 
no  pains  are  spared  by  him  to  ensure  accuracy  in  historic  details,  his 
books  supply  useful  aids  to  study  as  well  as  amusement." — School  Gmrd- 
ian. 

True  to  the  Old  Slag:    A  Tale  of  the  American  War  of 

Independence.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne, 

12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Does  justice  to  the  pluck  and  determination  of  the  British  soliders 
during  the  unfortunate  struggle  against  American  emancipation.  The  son 
of  an  American  loyalist,  who  remains  true  to  our  flag,  falls  among  the 
hostile  red-skins  in  that  very  Huron  country  which  has  been  endeared 
to  us  by   the   exploits   of   Hawkeye   and  Chingachgook." — The   Times.  | 

A  Final  Reckoning:     A    Tale  of  Bush   Life  in  Aus- 
tralia.   By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  W.  B.  Wollen.    12mo, 
cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 
"All  boys  will  read  this  story  with  eager  and  unflagging  interest.    The 

episodes  are  in  Mr.   Henty's  very  best  vein — graphic,   exciting,   realistic; 

and,  as  in  all  Mr.  Henty's  books,  the  tendency  is  to  the  formation  of  an 

honorable,    manly,    and   even   heroic   character." — Birmingham   Post. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BURT,   52-58  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.        13 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

The  lion  of  St.  Mark:    A  Tale  of  Venice  in  the  Four- 
teenth Century.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Brqwnjs. 
13mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 
"Every  boy  should  read  'The  Lion  of  St.  Mark.'     Mr.  Henty  has  never 

produced  a  story  more  delightful,  more  wholesome,  or  more  vivacious." — ■ 

Saturday    Review. 

Facing  Death;  or,  The  Hero  of  the  Vaughan  Pit.    A 

Tale  of  the  Coal  Mines.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon 

Browne.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"The  tale  is  well  written  and  well  illustrated,  and  there  is  much 
reality  in  the  characters.  If  any  father,  clergyman,  or  schoolmaster 
is  on  the  lookout  for  a  good  book  to  give  as  a  present  to  a  boy  who  Is 
worth  his  salt,  this  is  the  book  we  would  recommend." — Standard. 

Maori  and  Settler:      A  Story  of  the  New  Zealand  War. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Alfred  Pearse.    12mo,  clotht 

olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"In  the  adventures  among  the  Maoris,  there  are  many  breathless 
moments  in  which  the  odds  seem  hopelessly  against  the  party,  but  they 
succeed  in  establishing  themselves  happily  in  one  of  the  pleasant  New 
Zealand  valleys.  It  is  brimful  of  adventure,  of  humorous  and  Interesting 
conversation,   and  vivid  pictures  of  colonial  life." — Schoolmaster. 

One  of  the  28th:    A  Tale  of  Waterloo.    By  G.  A. 

Henty.    With  illustrations  by  W.  H.  Overend.      13mo,    cloth,  olivine 

edges,  price  $1.00. 
"Written  with  Homeric  vigor  and  heroic  inspiration.  It  is  graphic, 
picturesque,  and  dramatically  effective  .  .  .  shows  us  Mr.  Henty  at 
his  best  and  brightest.  The  adventures  will  hold  a  boy  enthralled  as  he 
rushes  through  them  with  breathless  interest  'from  cover  to  cover.'  "— 
Observer. 

Orange  and  Green:    A  Tale  of  the  Boyne  and  Limer- 
ick.   By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.     12mo, 
cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 
"The  narrative  is  free    from    the  vice    of    prejudice,  and    ripples    with 

life  as  if  what  is  being  described  were  really  passing  before  the  eye."— 

Belfast   News-Letter. 

Through  the  Fray:    A  Story  of  the   Lnddite  Riots. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  H.  M.  Paget.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine 

edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Mr.  Henty  inspires  a  love  and  admiration  for  straightforwardness,  truth 
and  courage.  This  is  one  of  the  best  of  the  many  good  books  Mr. 
Henty  has  produced,  and  deserves  to  be  classed  with  his  'Facing  Death.*  " 
— Standard. 

The  Young  Midshipman:  A  Story  of  the  Bombard- 
ment of  Alexandria.  With  illustrations.  12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges. 
price  $1.00. 

A  coast  fishing  lad,  by  an  act  of  heroism,  secures  the  Interest  of 
a  shipowner,  who  plaees  him  as  an  apprentice  on  board  one  of  his  ships. 
In  company  with  two  of  his  fellow-apprentices  he  is  left  behind,  at 
Alexandria,  In  the  hands  of  the  revolted  Egyptian  troops,  and  is  present 
through  the  bombardment  and  the  scenes  of  riot  and  bloodshed  which 
accompanied  it. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BURT,  52-58  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


14       A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

In    Times    of    Peril.    A  Tale  of    India.    By  G.  A. 

Hentt.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

The  hero  of  the  story  early  excites  our  admiration,  and  is  altogether 
a  fine  character  such  as  boys  will  delight  in,  whilst  the  story  of  the 
campaign  is  very  graphically  told." — St.  James's  Gazette. 

The  Cornet  of  Horse:    A  Tale  of  Marlborough's  Wars. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1. 

"Mr.  Henty  not  only  concocts  a  thrilling  tale,  he  weaves  fact  and  fiction 
together  with  so  skillful  a  hand  that  the  reader  cannot  help  acquiring  a 
just  and  clear  view  of  that  fierce  and  terrible  struggle  known  as  the 
Crimean  War." — Athenaeum. 

The  Young  Franc-Tireurs :    Their  Adventures  in  the 

Franco-Prussian  War.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth, 

olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"A  capital  book  for  boys.  It  Is  bright  and  readable,  and  full  of  good 
sense  and  manliness.  It  teaches  pluck  and  patience  in  adversity,  and 
shows   that   right  living   leads  to   success." — Observer. 

The  Young  Colonists:    A  Story  of  Life  and  War  in 

South  Africa.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine 

edges,  price  $1.00. 

"No  boy  needs  to  have  any  story  of  Henty's  recommended  to  him,  and 
parents  who  do  not  know  and  buy  them  for  their  boys  should  be  ashamed 
of  themselves.  Those  to  whom  he  is  yet  unknown  could  not  make  a 
better   beginning   than   with   this   book. 

The  Young  Buglers.     A  Tale  of  the  Peninsular  War. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1. 

"Mr.  Henty  is  a  giant  among  boys*  writers,  and  his  books  are  suffi- 
ciently popular  to  be  sure  of  a  welcome  anywhere.  In  stirring  interest, 
this  is  quite  up  to  the  level  of  Mr.  Henty's  former  historical  tales."— 
Saturday  Review. 

Sturdy  and  Strong;  or,  How  George  Andrews  Made  his 

Way.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo.  cloth,  olivine  edges, 

price  $1.00. 

"The  history  of  a  hero  of  everyday  life,  whose  love  of  tr  th,  clothing  of 
modesty,  and  innate  pluck,  carry  him,  naturally,  from  pov:rty  tj»  afflu- 
ence. George  Andrews  is  an  example  of  character  with  nothing  to  cavil 
at,  and  stands  as  a  good  instance  of  chivalry  in  domestic  life." — The 
Empire. 

Among  Malay  Pirates.    A    Story  of   Adventure   and 

Peril.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges, 

price  $1.00. 

"Incident  succeeds  Incident,  and  adventure  Is  piled  upon  adventure, 
and  at  the  end  the  reader,  be  he  boy  or  man,  will  have  experienced 
breathless  enjoyment  in  a  romantic  story  that  must  have  taught  ftim 
much  at  its  close." — Army  and  Navy  Gazette. 

Jack  Archer.     A   Tale   of   the   Crimea.     By  G.  &. 

Hknty.    With  illustrations.    liSmo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Mr.  Henty  not  only  concocts  a  tkrUling  tale,  he  weaves  fact  and  fletlcn 
together  with  so  skillful  a  hand  that  the  reader  cannot  help  acquiring  ,i 
just  and  clear  view  of  that  fierce  and  terrible  struggle." — Athsnaum. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  tha 
publisher,  A.  X>.  BTJET,  58-58  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.        15 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

Friends,  Though  Divided.    A  Tale  of  the  Civil  War. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.     12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1. 

"It  has  a  good  plot;  it  abounds  in  action;  the  scenes  are  equally  spirited 
and  realistic,  and  we  can  only  say  we  have  read  it  with  much  pleasure 
from   first   to   last." — Times. 

Out  on  the  Pampas;    or,    The    Young    Settlers.    By 

G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"A  really  noble  story,  which  adult  readers  will  find  to  the  full  as  satis- 
fying as  the  boys.  Lucky  boys!  to  have  such  a  eaterer  as  Mr.  G.  A. 
Henty." — Blaek  and  White. 

TheBoyEnight:      A  Tale  of  the  Crusades.    By  G.  A. 

Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  Si  -00. 

"Of  stirring  episode  there  is  no  lack.  The  book,  with  its  careful  accu- 
racy and  its  descriptions  of  all  the  chief  battles,  will  give  many  a  school- 
boy his  first  real  understanding  of  a  very  important  period  of  history." — ■ 
St.  James's  Gazette. 

The  Wreck  of  the  Golden  Fleece.    The  Story  of  a  North 

Sea  Fisher  Boy.    By  Egbert  Leighton.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1. 

A  description  of  life  on  the  wild  North  Sea, — the  hero  being  a  parson's 
son  who  is  appreciated  on  board  a  Lowestoft  fishing  lugger.  The  lad  has 
to  suffer  many  buffets  from  his  shipmates,  while  the  storms  and  dangers 
which  he  braved  on  board  the  "North  Star"  are  set  forth  with  minute 
knowledge  and  intense  power.  The  wreck  of  the  "Golden  Fleece"  forms 
the  climax  to  a  thrilling  series  of  desperate  mischances. 

Olaf  the  Glorious.    A  Story  of  the  Viking  Age.    By 

Robert  Leighton.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1 .00. 

This  story  of  Olaf  the  Glorious,  King  of  Norway,  opens  with  the  incident 
of  his  being  found  by  his  uncle  living  as  a  bond-slave  in  Esthonia;  then 
come  his  adventures  as  a  Viking  and  his  raids  upon  the  coasts  of  Scot- 
land and  England,  his  victorious  battle  against  the  English  at  Maldon  in 
Essex,  his  being  bought  off  by  Ethelred  the  Unready,  and  his  conversion 
to  Christianity.  He  then  returns  to  Pagan  Norway,  is  accepted  as  king, 
and  converts  his  people  to  the  Christian  faith. 

To  Greenland  and  the  Pole.    A  story  of  Adventure  in 

the  Arctic  Regions.    By  Gordon  Stables.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1. 

The  unfailing  fascination  of  Arctic  venturing  is  presented  in  this  s:ory 
with  new  vividness.  It  deals  with  skilobning  in  the  north  of  Scotland, 
deer-hunting  in  Norway,  sealing  in  the  Arctic  Seas,  bear-stalking  on  the 
ice-floes,  the  hardships  of  a  journey  across  Greenland,  and  a  successful 
voyage  to  the  back  of  the  North  Pole.  This  is,  indeed,  a  real  sea-yarn 
by  a  real  sailor,  and  the  tone  is  as  bright  and  wholesome  as  the  adventures 
are  numerous. 

Yussuf  the  Guide.     A    Story   of   Adventure  in   Asia 

Minor.    By  George  Manyille  Fenn.    ISmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

This  story  deals  with  the  stirring  incidents  in  the  career  of  a  lad  who  has 
been  almost  given  over  by  the  doctors,  but  who  rapidly  recovers  health 
and  strength  in  a  journey  through  Asia  Minor.  The  adventures  are  many, 
and  culminate  in  the  travellers  being  snowed  up  for  the  winter  in  the 
mountains,  from  which  they  escape  while  their  captors  are  waiting  for 
the  ransom  that  does  not  come. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A,  L,  BURT,  52-53  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


16      A.  L.  burt's  books  for  young  people. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

Grettir  the  Outlaw.    A  Story  of  Iceland.    By  S.  Bar- 

ing-Gocjld.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"This  Is  the  boys'  book  of  the  year.  That  is,  of  course,  as  much  as 
to  say  that  it  will  do  for  men  grown  as  well  as  juniors.  It  is  told  in 
simple,  straightforward  English,  as  all  stories  should  be,  and  it  has  a 
freshness   and   freedom   which   make   it   irresistible." — National   Observer. 

Two    Thousand    Years  Ago.      The    Adventures    of    a 

Roman  Boy.    By  A.  J.  Church.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1. 00. 

"Prof.  Church  has  in  this  story  sought  to  revivify  that  most  interesting 
period,  the  last  days  of  the  Roman  Republic.  The  book  is  extremely  en- 
tertaining as  well  as  useful;  there  is  a  wonderful  freshness  in  the  Roman 
scenes  and  characters." — Times. 

Nat  the  Naturalist.  A  Boy's  Adventure  in  the  East- 
ern Seas.  By  George  Manville  Fenn.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1. 
Nat  and  his  uncle  Dick  go  on  a  voyage  to  the  remoter  islands  of  the 
Eastern  seas,  and  their  adventures  are  told  in  a  truthful  and  vastly  in- 
teresting fashion.  The  descriptions  of  Mr.  Ebony,  their  black  comrade, 
and  of  the  scenes  of  savage  life,  are  full  of  genuine  humor. 

The  Log  of  the  Flying  Fish.      A  Story  of  Peril  and 

Adventure.    By  Harry  Collingwood.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1. 

"This  story  is  full  of  even  more  vividly  recounted  adventures  than  those 
whicli  charmed  so  many  boy  readers  in  'Pirate  Island'  and  'Congo  Rovers.' 
.  .  .  There  is  a  thrilling  adventure  on  the  precipices  of  Mount  Everest, 
when  the  ship  floats  off  and  providentially  returns  by  force  of  'gr«vita- 
tion.'  " — Academy. 

The  Congo  Kovers.    A  Story  of  the   Slave   Squadron. 

By  Harry  Collingwood.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  fl.00. 

"The  scene  of  this  tale  is  laid  on  the  west  coast  of  Africa,  and  in  the 
lower  reaches  of  the  Congo;  the  characteristic  scenery  of  the  great  river 
being  delineated  with  wonderful  accuracy.  Mr.  Collingwood  carries  us  off 
for  another  cruis  at  sea,  in  'The  Congo  Hovers,'  and  boys  will  need  no 
pressing  to  join  the  daring  crew,  which  seeks  adventures  and  meets  with 
any  number  of  them." — The  Times. 

Boris  the  Bear  Hunter.    A  Tale  of  Peter  the  Great  and 

His  Times.    By  Fred  Wishaw.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 
"This  is  a  capital  story.     The  characters  are  marked  and  lifelike,  and  It 
is  full  of  incident  and  adventure." — standard. 

Michael  Strogoff ;  or,   The   Courier  of  the   Czar.     By 

Jules  Verne.    l2mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"The  story  is  full  of  originality  and  vigor.  The  characters  are  lifelike, 
there  is  plenty  of  stirring  incident,  the  interest  is  sustained  throughout, 
and  every  boy  will  enjoy  following  the  fortunes  of  the  hero." — Journal  of 
Education. 

Mother  Carey's  Chicken.     Her  Voyage  to  the  Unknown 

Isle.    By  Geofge  Manville  Fenn.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"Undoubtedly  one  of  the  best  Mr.  Fenn  has  written.  The  incidents  are 
of  thrilling  interest,  while  the  characters  are  drawn  with  a  care  and  com- 
pleteness rarely  found  in  a  boy's  book," — Literary  World. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A,   L.   BURT,   52-58  Duane  Street,  TTew  York. 


A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.        17 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

Dick  Sand;   or,  A    Captain    at    Fifteen.     By  Jules 

Verne.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"Jules  Verne  himself  never  constructed  a  more  marvellous  tale.  It  con- 
tains the  strongly  marked  features  that  are  always  conspicuous  in  his 
stories — a  racy  humor,  the  manly  vigor  of  his  sentiment,  and  wholesome 
moral  lessons." — Christian  Leader. 

Erling  Uhe  Bold.    A  Tale  of  the    Norse    Sea   Kings. 

By  R.  M.  Ballantyne.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"This  volume  makes  a  really  fascinating  book,  worthy  of  its  telling 
title.  There  is,  we  venture  to  say,  not  a  dull  chapter  in  the  book,  not 
a  page  which  will  not  bear  a  second  reading." — Guardian. 

Masterman  Ready;  or,  The  Wreck  of  the  Pacific.    By 

Captain  Marryat.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"As  racy  a  tale  of  life  at  sea  and  adventure  as  we  have  met  with  for 
some  time.  .  .  .  Altogether  the  sort  of  book  that  boys  will  revel  in." 
—Athenaeum. 

The  Green  Mountain  Boys.  A  Tale  of  the  Early  Set- 
tlement of  Vermont.  By  D.  P.  Thompson.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1 . 
A  story  of  very  great  interest  for  boys.  In  his  own  forcible  style  the 
author  has  endeavored  to  show  that  determination  and  patriotic  enthu- 
siasm can  accomplish  marvellous  results.  This  story  gives  a  graphic  ac- 
count of  the  early  settlers  of  Vermont,  and  their  patriotic  efforts  in  de- 
fending their  homes  from  the  invasions  of  enemies. 

Every  Inch  a  Sailor.     By   Gordon   Stables.      12mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"A  story  which  is  quite  as  good  in  its  way  as  'Treasure  Island,'  and  is 
full  of  adventure  of  a  stirring  yet  most  natural  kind.  Although  it  is 
primarily  a  boys'  book,  it  is  a  real  godsend  to  the  elderly  reader." — 
Evening  Times. 

The  Golden  Galleon.    !A!  Narrative   of   Adventure  on 

Her  Majesty's  Ship  the  Revenge.    By  Robert  Leighton.     12mo,  cloth, 

illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"This  story  should  add  considerably  to  Mr.  Leighton's  high  reputation. 
Excellent  in  every  respect,  it  contains  every  variety  of  incident.  The  plot 
is  very  cleverly  devised,  and  the  types  of  the  North  Sea  sailors  are 
capital." — The  Times. 

The  Gorilla  Hunters.    A  Tale  of  the  Wilds  of  Africa. 

By  R.  M.  Ballantyne.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"We  conscientiously  belive  that  boys  will  find  it  capital  reading.  It  is 
full  of  incident  and  mystery,  and  the  mystery  is  kept  up  to  the  last 
moment.  It  is  full  of  stirring  adventure,  daring  and  many  escapes;  and 
it  has  a  historical  interest." — Times. 

Gascoyne    the    Sandalwood    Trader.    By  E.  M.  Bal- 
lantyne.   12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"One  of  the  best  stories  of  seafaring  life  and  adventure  which  have 
appeared  this  season.  Entertaining  In  the  highest  degree  from  beginning 
to  end,  and  full  of  adventure  which  is  all  the  livelier  for  its  close  con- 
nection with  history." — Spectator. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BURT,  58-58  Duano  Street,  New  York. 


18        A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOE  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

Two  Years  Before  the  Mast.    rA  Personal  Narrative  of 

Life  at  Sea.    By  R.  H.  Dana,  Jr.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"One  of  the  very  best  books  for  boys  that  we  have  seen  for  a  long  time: 
its  author  stands  far  in  advance  of  any  other  writer  for  boys  as  a  teller 
of  stories  of  the  sea." — The  Standard. 

The  Young  Rajah.    A  Story  of  Indian  Life.    By  W. 

H.  G.  Kingston.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"This  story  will  place  the  author  at  once  in  the  front  rank.  It  is  full 
of  life  and  adventure,  and  the  interest  is  sustained  without  a  break  from 
first  to  last." — Standard. 

How  Jack  Mackenzie  Won  His  Epaulettes.    A  Story 

of  the  Crimean  War.     By  Gordon  Stables.     ISmo,  cloth,  illustrated, 

price  $1.00. 

"This  must  rank  among  the  few  undeniably  good  boys'  books.  He 
will  be  a  very  dull  boy  indeed  who  lays  it  down  without  wishing  that 
it  had  gone  on  for  at  least  100  pages  more." — Mail. 

The  King's  Pardon.    A  Story  of  Land  and  Sea.    By 

Robert  Overton.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"An  excellent  story,  the  interest  being  sustained  from  first  to  last. 
This  is,  both  in  its  intention  and  the  way  the  story  is  told,  one  of  the 
best  books  of  its  kind  which  has  come  before  ub  this  year." — Saturday 
He  view. 

Under  the  Lone  Star.    A  Story  of  the  Bevolution  in 

Nicaragua.    By  Herbert  Haynes.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"We  have  not  of  late  come  across  a  historical  fiction,  whether  intended 
for  boys  or  for  men,  which  deserves  to  be  so  heartily  and  unreservedly 
praised  as  regards  plot,  incidents,  and  spirit  as  this  book.  It  is  its  au- 
thor's masterpiece  as  yet." — Spectator. 

Geoff  and  Jim:  A  Story  of  School  Life.    By  Ismat 

Thorn.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"This  is  a  prettily  told  story  of  the  life  spent  by  two  motherless  bairns 
at  a  small  preparatory  school.  Both  Geoff  and  Jim  are  very  lovable  char- 
acters, only  Jim  is  the  more  so;  and  the  scrapes  he  gets  into  and  the 
trials  he  endures  will,  no  doubt,  interest  a  large  circle  of  young  readers." 
—Church  Times. 

Jack:  A  Topsy  Turvy  Story.     By  C.  M.   Crawley- 

Boevey.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"The  illustrations  deserve  particular  mention,  as  they  add  largely  to 
the  interest  of  this  amusing  volume  for  children.  Jack  falls  asleep  with 
his  mind  full  «f  the  subject  of  the  fishpond,  and  is  very  much  surprised 
presently  to  find  himself  an  inhabitant  of  Waterworld,  where  he  goes 
through  wonderful  and  edifying  adventures.  A  handsome  and  pleasant 
book." — Literary  World. 

Black  Beauty.     The  Autobiography  of  a  Horse.     By 

Anna  Sewell.    l2mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

This  is  the  life  story  of  a  horse;  how  he  was  ill  treated  and  well 
cared  for.  The  experiences  of  Black  Beauty,  Ginger,  and  Merrylegs  are 
extremely  interesting.  Wherever  children  are,  whether  boys  or  girls,  there 
this  Autobiography  should  be.  It  inculcates  habits  of  kindness  to  all  mem- 
bers of  the  animal  creation.     The  literary  merit  of  the  book  is  excellent. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,   A.   L.   BURT,   52-58  Duane   Street,    New  York. 


A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOB  YOUNG  PEOPLE.        19 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

Mopsa  the  Fairy.    By  Jean  Ingelow.     12mo,  cloth, 

illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"Mrs.  Ingelow  is,  to  our  mind,  the  most  charming  of  all  living  writers 
for  children,  and  'Mopsa'  alone  ought  to  give  her  a  kind  of  pre-emptive 
right  to  the  love  and  gratitude  of  our  young  folks.  It  requires  genius 
to  conceive  a  purely  imaginary  work  which  must  of  necessity  deal  with 
the  supernatural,  without  running  into  a  mere  riot  of  fantastic  absurdity; 
but  genius  Mrs.  Ingelow  has,  and  the  story  of  'Jack'  is  as  careless  and 
joyous,  but  as  delicate  as  a  picture  of  childhood." — Eclectic. 

Carrots:  Just  a  Little  Boy.    By  Mrs.  Molesworth. 

12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"One  of  the  cleverest  and  most  pleasing  stories  it  has  been  our  good 
fortune  to  meet  with  for  some  time.  Carrots  and  his  sister  are  delight- 
ful little  beings,  whom  to  read  about  is  at  once  to  become  very  fond  of. 
A  genuine  children's  book;  we've  seen  'em  seize  it,  and  read  it  greedily. 
Children  are  first-rate  critics,  and  thoroughly  appreciate  Walter  Crane's 
illustrations. ' ' — Punch. 

Larry's  Luck.     By  the  author  of  "Miss  Toosey's  Mis- 
sion.1'   12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"It  is  believed  that  this  story,  by  this  favorably  known  author  of 
'Miss  Toosey's  Mission,'  will  be  found  both  highly  interesting  and  instruc- 
tive to  the  young.  Whether  the  readers  are  nine  years  old,  or  twice  as 
old,  they  must  enjoy  this  pretty  volume." — The  Examiner. 

A  Child's  Christmas:  A  Sketch  of  Boy  Life.    By  Mrs. 

Molesworth.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"This  is  another  of  those  delightful  juvenile  stories  of  which  this  author 
has  written  so  many.  It  is  a  fascinating  little  book,  with  a  charming 
plot,  a  sweet,  pure  atmosphere,  and  teaches  a  wholesome  moral  in  the 
most  winning  manner." — Gazette. 

Chunk,  Fusky  and  Snout.     A  Story  of  Wild  Pigs  for 

Little  People.    By  Gerald  Young.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"The  story  is  an  extremely  interesting  one,  full  of  incident,  told  in  a 
quiet,  healthful  way,  and  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasantly  interfused 
information  about  wild  pigs  and  their  ways.  It  is  sure  to  interest  both 
boys  and  girls." — Christian  Union. 

Daddy's  Boy.     By  L.  T.  Meade.     12mo,  cloth,  illus- 
trated, price  75  cents. 

"A  charming  story  of  child  life.  Little  Sir  Rowland  is  one  of  the 
most  fascinating  of  the  misunderstood  child  heroes  of  the  day.  The  quaint 
doings  and  imaginings  of  this  gentle,  lovable,  but  highly  original  child  are 
introduced  by  Mrs.  Meade,  with  all  her  accustomed  pathos." — Guardian. 

Adventures    of    Prince    Prigio.    By   Andrew    Lang. 

12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"This  book  has  so  much  charm  of  style  and  good  writing  that  It  will  be 
eagerly  read  by  many  other  than  the  young  folk  for  whom  it  is  intended." 
—Black  and  White. 

A  Flock  of  Four.     A  Story  for  Boys  and  Girls.     By 

Ismay  Thorn.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 
"As  a  gift  book  for  boys  it  is  among  the  best  new  books  of  the  kind. 
The  story  is  interesting  and  natural,  from  first  to  last." — Gazette. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BUKT,  52-58  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


20      A.  L.  BURT'S  books  for  young  people. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

A  Flat  Iron  for  a  Farthing.    The  Story  of  an  Only 

Son.    By  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"A  very  good  book  it  is,  full  of  adventure,  graphically  told.     The  style 

is  just  what  it  should  be;    simple  but  not  bold,   full  of  pleasant  humor, 

and  with  some  pretty   touches  of  feeling.     Like  all  Mrs.   Ewing's  tales, 

it  is  sound,  sensible,  and  wholesome." — Times. 

The  Greek  Heroes.    Fairy  Tales  for  My  Children.    By 

Charles  Kingslet.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 
"We  do  not  think  these  heroic  stories  have  ever  been  more  attractively 
told.  .  .  There  is  a  deep  under-current  of  religious  feeling  traceable 
throughout  its  pages  which  is  sure  to  influence  young  readers  power- 
fully. One  of  the  children's  books  that  will  surely  become  a  classic."— 
London  Seview. 

Jackanapes.     By  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing.     12mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"This  is  one  of  Mrs.  Ewing's  charming  little  stories  for  young  children. 
The  narrative  ...  is  full  of  interest  for  its  real  grace  and  delicacy, 
and  the  exquisiteness  and  purity  of  the  English  in  which  it  is  written."— 
Boston  Advertiser. 

Princess  and  Curdie.    By  George  Macdonald.     12mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"One  of  the  cleverest  and  most  pleasing  stories  it  has  been  our  good 
fortune  to  meet  with  for  some  time.  The  Princess  and  Curdie  are  delight- 
ful little  beings,  whom  to  read  about  is  at  once  to  become  very  fond  of." 
—Examiner. 

Peter  the  Pilgrim.     The  Story  of  a  Boy  and  His  Pet 

Rabbit.    By  L.  T.  Meade.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 
"Little  Peter,   with  his  soft  heart,  clever  head,  and  brave  spirit  is  no 
morbid   presentment   of   the   angelic   child    'too   good   to   live,'    and   who   is 
certainly    a    nuisance   on   earth,    but   a   charming   creature,    if   not    a   por- 
trait, whom  it  is  a  privilege  to  meet  even  in  fiction." — The  Academy. 

We  and  the  World.    A  Story  for  Boys.    By  Juliana 

Horatia  Ewing.    lSmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 
"The  author  has  evidently  studied  the  ways  and  tastes  of  children  and 
got  at  the  secret  of  amusing  them;     and  has  succeeded  in  what  is  not 
so  easy   a   task   as   it   may   seem — in   producing   a   really   good   children's 
book." — Daily  Telegraph. 

little    Ivan's    Hero.    A    Story    of    Child   Life.    By 

Helen  Milman.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 
"We  should  imagine  those  queer  folk  indeed  who  could  not  read  this 
Story   with   eager  interest   and   pleasure,   be   they   boys  or  girls,   young   or 
old.     We  highly  commend  the  style  in  which  the  book  is  written,  and  the 
spirit  which  pervades  it." — World. 

Dick,  Marjorie  and  Fidge.     The  Wonderful  Adventures 

of  Three  Little  People.    By  G.  E.  Farrow.    12mo,  cloth,  illust'd,  price  75c. 

"...     To  the  young,  for  whom  it  is  especially  intended,  this  is  a 

most  interesting  book  of  adventures,   well  told,   and  a   pleasant  book  to 

take  up  when  their  wish  is  to  while  away  a  weary  half-hour.     We  have 

seen  no  prettier  gift-book  for  a  long  time." — Atheneeum. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BURT,   62-58  Duane  Street,   New  York. 


A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

A  Wonder  Book:   For  Boys  and  Girls.     Comprising 

Stories  of  Classical  Fables.     By  Nathaniel  Hawthorne.     12mo,  cloth, 
illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"A  beautiful  little  story.  It  will  be  read  with  delight  by  every  child 
into  whose  hands  it  is  placed." — Gazette. 

My  Dog  Plato:  His  Adventures  and  Impressions.     By 

H.  M.  Cornwall  Legh.     12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 
"A  capital  story,   and  one  we  heartily  commend  to  boy  readers,   both 
gentle  and  simple." — Guardian. 

Squib  and  His  Friends.     A  Story  for  Children.     By 

Ellen  Everett  Green.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 
"This  book  will  please  by  its  simplicity,  its  tenderneBS,  and  its  healthy 
interesting  motive.     It  is  admirably  written."-— Scotsman. 

Tom's   Opinion.     The  Story  of   a  Boys'   School.    By 

the  author  of  "  Miss  Toosey's  Mission."    13mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75c. 
"A   beautiful   little    story.     ...     It    will    be    read    with    delight    by 
every  boy  into  whose  hands  it  is  placed." — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

Robin's  Ride.     A   Story  for  Children.     By  Ellinor 

D.  Adams.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"It  is  a  first-rate  boys'  book.  It  is  a  capital  story;  the  characters  are 
well  drawn,  and  the  incidents  are  perfectly  natural." — Times. 

Peter  and  Tom.     A   Story  for  Boys.     By  Belle   S. 

Cragin.    13mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

Peter  and  Tom  were  unlikely  heroes,  particularly  in  the  direction  of 
heroism,  but  the  proper  chord  was  touched  in  each  of  their  lives,  and 
through  many  trials  and  adventures  they  developed  Christian  principles  and 
successful  business  traits. 

Hurse   Heatherdale's   Story.    By   Mrs.  Molesworth. 

ISmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"  'Nurse  Heatherdale's  Story'  is  all  about  a  small  boy,  who  was  good 
enough,  yet  was  always  getting  into  some  trouble  through  complications 
in  which  he  was  not  to  blame.  He  is  an  orphan,  though  he  is  cared  for  in 
a  way  by  relations,  who  are  not  so  very  rich,  yet  are  looked  on  as  well 
fixed.  After  many  youthful  trials  and  disappointments  he  falls  into  a 
big  stroke  of  good  luck,  which  lifts  him  and  goes  to  make  others  happy." 
—Commercial  Advertiser. 

The  Last  of  the  Huggermuggers.    A  Giant  Story.    By 

Christopher  P.  Crauch.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 
"Fresh  and  charming  in  style,  with  fnn  that  is  never  forced,   pathos 
that  is  always  genuine,  and  with  a  distinctly  wholesome  purpose.     This  is 
certain  to  be  a  favorite  with  boys." — Literary  World. 

The   Hunting   of   the    Snark.    By   Lewis    Carroll, 

author  of  "Alice  in  Wonderland."    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"Whether  as  regarding  author  or  illustrator,  this  book  is  a  Jewel 
rarely  to  be  found  nowadays.  Not  a  whit  inferior  to  its  predecessor  in 
grand  extravagance  of  imagination,  and  delicious  allegorical  nonsense." 
"-Quarterly  Review. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BTTRT,  68-58  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


